To DD or Not to DD
by Kimmychu
Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed, or blessed, depending on how you see things, with very unusual … addons. Inspired by a forum comment: “Danny is the show’s DD breasts.” DannyFlack, DannyMac.
1. Chapter 1

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 1**

It all started with a bang.

Or more accurately, it all started the morning Detective Danny Messer was working alone at the labs on a recent murder case involving a strange, neon-blue gooey substance slathered all over their victim. It even glowed in the dark, reminding Danny of the time his encyclopaedic co-worker, former ME Sheldon Hawkes, showed him picture slides of those deep-ocean creatures with their eerie bio-luminescence.

He had been uncharacteristically early for his shift for the fourth time that week, which made him wonder whether he was beginning to love his job too much for his own good. Not that he didn't have a life or anything like that, but there was nothing wrong with working eighteen-hour shifts on a nearly regular basis, was there? It _was_ his duty to study and assess evidence to catch murderers and criminals, after all. And in a city like New York, there's never a shortage on both species. He was quite sure his boss (one of the best CSIs in the country, his mind added) would agree on all accounts. At least, he _used_ to be sure the great Detective Mac Taylor would have backed him up in all times.

It's funny how nobody noticed a single bullet or two had killed more than one cop that day in the subway.

Danny scowled hard enough to squeeze his blue eyes shut for a few seconds, shaking his head once from side to side. The memory of seeing the bloodied NYPD badge as Detective Minhaus lay dead still packed a mind-numbing punch even after all this time. The headquarters' whole move over to a new building didn't help him to forget either. He had two pairs of fierce eyes to remind him everyday. One glacier blue, one deep hazel. Blue was the colour of iciness. Indifference. Yet, those large, blue eyes had held more warmth and understanding than the hazel ones ever did.

_He's got your back, Danny._

Nah, his best friend, Homicide Detective Don Flack, was wrong there. There was somebody who got his back then, but it sure wasn't Mac. He only wished he hadn't been so selfishly blind to his friend's concern and empathy.

As he meticulously transferred some of the gooey matter from a large beaker onto a transparent slide, he recalled a quiet, late evening in a stark white laboratory. Sitting in front of a miniature model of a diner's structural layout, arms folded, head bowed. So lost in thought it had taken a good twenty minutes after Mac informed him of the good news and left for home to realize what he'd just been given. Perhaps it was his overconfidence in his unofficial position as Mac's golden boy that dampened his reaction to being on the promotion grid. Perhaps he believed he absolutely deserved it after having worked for Mac for over five years. Perhaps he was simply damn tired that day and needed a hell lot of sleep after a multiple murder case like that.

Whatever the reason, that was a closed chapter in his book now. The chances of him getting back into the grid was lower than Flack ever losing his delight in consuming hot dogs from street vendors. But the fact that he lost his opportunity at a promotion to Detective Third Grade wasn't even the thing that made him feel sick to the stomach these days.

What made him feel that way inside was that his golden child status had been replaced by a Montana hick. (Mac would have told him off for calling her that instead of her name, Lindsay Monroe, but he was smarter than saying that out loud in front of _him_, wasn't he?) A country girl who (and this _always_ made him grind his teeth) had taken over the place of another best friend no longer in his life. Fuck, he missed Aiden like crazy. He knew Flack missed her just as much, if his livid, drunk mutterings during long nights at Sullivan's about Mac firing her without telling his reason why was any indication. Damn her for not picking up her phone.

Even though half a year'd already passed, he still couldn't bring himself to call Monroe by her first name unless it was absolutely necessary. It was like trampling on the memorial grounds of his friendship with Aiden in boots with sharpened, steel spikes in the soles. It stung and pissed him off at the same time. It made him want to cackle like a madman every time someone whispered behind his back that he had an interest in the CSI newcomer. When Flack casually mentioned it once, and _only_ once, Danny's twisted expression said more than words ever could. Flack was wise enough to never bring it up again.

If Montana thought she could come flying in and occupy _his_ place, she had _something_ coming her way. He'd rather eat a hundred Peruvian centipedes than let that something be Mac. And if everyone assumed things were all good between them, he was fine with that too, since it meant _Mac_ wouldn't be suspecting anything also.

The sharp ringing tone of his mobile phone startled him in the silence of the laboratory. He frowned, taking it out of his trouser pocket and glancing at the caller ID. He'd never admit it, but seeing Flack's name popping up on his phone always gave him a innate sense of reassurance. Flipping it open, he was already predicting the questions Flack was going to ask him that early in the morning. Flack was exactly that kind of guy who wanted to make sure he got the details for everything, every time. Especially if it winded Danny up in a good, stress-relief way.

"Hey, Danny. Black or latte espresso?"

Danny grinned, all pearly teeth. "Fuck you. Ya know I don't drink coffee. I want friggin' _tea_." He turned away from the table he was working on, looking out through massive glass windows at the city skyline thrown into shadows by the rising morning sun.

"Yeahyeah, in your dreams, Messer. You want some of that Earl Grey crap, right? Or was it that _Darbeeediiing_ stuff?" Danny could literally hear the trademark smirk in the other detective's voice.

"I'm gonna kick your ass when my shift ends. And you owe me twenty bucks, remember?"

"Do not." The audio cacophony of bustling New Yorkers and vehicles on the streets filtered through to Danny's ears. A man with a rough, Turkish accent curtly told Flack the price of his hot dog, and Danny's grin turned into a semi-grimace. Flack was still eating _those_ hot dogs. Gross.

"Do _too_. You took twenty from me to pay for that extra beer. For that chick with the _big_ _bazongas_." Danny blinked when a sudden, bright light appeared in the corner of his eye.

"Ohhh, _her_. Yeah, I remember her. Too bad she couldn't hold her alcohol as well as she held her … abundant assets, heheheh."

Danny faced the table again, staring with squinted eyes and his head tilted sideways at the neon-blue stuff on the slide and inside the beaker. It was now shining with a white radiance, so glaring it started to hurt his eyes. Flack was still ranting at the other end about his former heavily bosomed companion as Danny slowly backed away, one hand shielding his eyes.

" … Flack?"

Danny heard a bizarre bubbling sound. Then a pop.

"Danny?"

The force of the blast blanked out Danny's whole world.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Danny?"

There was nothing. A second later, Flack cursed and pulled his cel phone away from his ear. He knew the deafening sound of an explosion when he heard one. He instantly put the phone back to his ear and yelled into it.

"Danny! _Danny! _Are you alright! _TALK TO ME!_"

The connection was dead.

"_Shit!_" Flack continued to swear loudly, snapping his mobile phone close and sprinting to his car. He vaguely heard the street vendor shouting at him, something about him forgetting his hot dog. He shot out onto the road with the screeching of tyres, almost running over a group of pedestrians on the zebra crossing, but at that point, he couldn't give a damn if he actually did.

The last time he lost his nerves this bad was when Mac had notified him Danny'd been caught in a crossfire on his own with a suspect who tried to escape. He'd been in a red haze, imagining Danny lying on the ground with bloody holes mangling his body, until he saw with his own eyes Danny was alright apart from a slight wound to his forehead. It took many nights of beer at Sullivan's and playing hoops together to help him stop thinking about the ghastly vision.

It was ironic he was allergic to cats. He always believed Danny was very much like one, packaged along with nine lives. If even half of what Danny'd told him about his past was true, Danny would have used up most of his nine lives by now. Flack couldn't bear to think that this time was the last one.

The only thing echoing in his mind over and over now was Danny saying his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 2**

Detective Stella Bonasera definitely wasn't what one would consider an average or timid woman. In fact, saying either of those to her face was something akin to searching for a death wish. Very much so if agony between the legs was part of the plan too. But, as a select few men who've survived her punch or kick of doom have attested (in oddly high-pitched voices), she was worth every second of pain.

Of course, Mac, who'd known her and been her partner for more years than most of her boyfriends combined, knew the difference between truth and exaggeration better than most people. It was part of his job to seek the truth within all the lies. However, as he silently watched her storming down the hospital hallway towards him, he could grasp why there were men who found her intimidating and even frightening.

"Has he awakened?" That was his Stella, straight to the point, green eyes flashing.

"No, he's still unconscious. But the doctor said he should wake up any moment now." Mac gestured to the semi-closed door next to him, bearing a number at head height. "Flack's in there with him now."

Stella pointedly stared at him for a moment, and he just about rolled his eyes.

"_Yes_, I've gone in to see him."

She sent him a brilliant smile before pushing past the door into the room. Mac remained outside, leaning slightly on the smooth wall behind him, listening to Stella greeting Flack softly. He envisioned Stella placing one hand on his shoulder, giving him an almost maternal smile while she asked the younger detective what had happened. The door muffled most of what Flack said in reply but the strain in his voice was obvious. Mac's eyebrows met together in a frown. He understood exactly how Flack felt, although he didn't show it as visibly.

Mac was in another section of the labs when he felt the massive tremors rolling through the very walls and floors all around him, followed milliseconds later by a thunderous boom. His first thought was that a bomb had exploded, that it was possibly a terrorist attack. The next few thoughts unwillingly shifted to his late wife, Claire, wondering if he was about to discover firsthand what she went through before she died when the Towers fell. The minute he realized everything was still intact around him (apart from some empty test tubes that fell off the tables and shattered on the floor), he rushed into the hallway towards the site of the explosion.

It was very fortunate there were much fewer technicians in attendance during that particular shift. Mac was certain Danny wouldn't have appreciated the entire lab seeing him sprawled on the charred floor, his clothes and most of his hair singed right off his body. The entire laboratory Danny worked in was nothing more than a chaotic wreck of broken tables and glass, smashed equipment and spilled chemicals. The outer windows had blown outwards with the blast, and Mac could only hope none of the falling shards injured anyone below at ground level.

For the first time since his Marine days, he had been at a loss what to do. Danny's back was facing him, his head turned away and tucked under an arm so Mac had no idea whether he was even alive. Tatters of his maroon shirt and khaki trousers still covered his back, hips and upper thighs, but where his clothes had burnt away, there were reddish, raw blisters. There were also splatters of some luminescent bluish substance on Danny's jaw, neck and shoulders where he could see. Mac feared touching Danny would further hurt the younger man.

Flack's heavy footsteps behind him jolted him out of his daze. It took all of his strength to grapple with Flack to stop him from grabbing Danny. Flack's lanky, slim build was very misleading of how tough the homicide detective really was; now he had the bruises to prove it. Flack's frenzy nearly convinced him to sock the blue-eyed detective in the face just to calm him down, and he was thankful to the male lab technician who helped subdue him.

He was even more thankful to the person who'd the mind to immediately call 911. The presence of the EMT at the scene seemed to calm Flack down somewhat, even if some of the ferocity remained in Flack's wide, glazed eyes. Mac was definitely going to have a talk with him later. As the paramedics deftly turned Danny over to see to his injuries, Mac saw more of the bright blue stuff plastering Danny's chest. He made a mental note to collect a sample of it himself later at the hospital, feeling a lot more like himself knowing Danny was still alive and would be cared for. He remembered it came from one of their current cases, concerning the brutal murder of an unidentified woman splashed with the stuff. If it was the cause of the explosion, whoever manufactured it was going to have a lot more than just a killing to answer for.

Everything that happened afterwards passed in a blur. Everyone who was at the scene was questioned, including Mac. Flack had the most to say, as he was the last person to talk with Danny and virtually heard the explosion via his mobile phone. The young detective was more calm, the only signs of distress revealed in the pursed thinness of his lips and the low set of his brows. Immediately after that, Mac and Flack hurried to the hospital where Danny'd been dispatched. It was a tense two hours in the waiting area, lessened a little by Stella showing up for awhile before needing to leave to deal with a suspect in one of her cases.

And over four hours later after a doctor approached them to break the news Danny was going to be fine, here he was, standing in wordless vigil before his favoured protégé's hospital room. Not that it's going to make a difference now, a small, vindictive voice in his mind said. It made him wince inwardly, because it was true.

He had such high hopes for Danny. When he first placed the young, recently graduated CSI on his hiring list years ago, he was surprised at the amount of opposition he got from his peers over it. His former partner on the force, a hulking giant of a man who always called him by his full first name, happened to be one of them.

"I'm telling' ya, Maclaren, that boy's _bad news_." Jon was munching loudly on a hamburger the size of Mac's head, waving it around as he rumbled. "I heard things 'bout him. He's got connections to the _gangs_, that one."

"'Things'. In other words, unsubstantiated rumours." Mac was smaller in stature compared to Jon, nearly a head shorter than him too. But Jon was no idiot. Mac Taylor was one tough bastard you didn't mess with.

"Yeah, but ya know how things are. People don't talk unless there's somethin' that wants to stay hidden, know what I mean?" Jon's heavy-lidded, hard eyes spoke of decades of experience on the streets of New York. "You oughta be careful about hiring this Messer. Sure, he came out top a' his class. Don't mean that automatically makes him a _good_ cop."

Mac's eyes narrowed, mirthless smirk on the lips.

"Whatever happened to giving everyone a second chance, Jon?"

"All I'm gonna say 'bout that is, everybody makes mistakes. But some mistakes …" - Mac watched his friend finish the last of his meal - "Some mistakes, they'll cost ya more than you can pay up, Maclaren."

"They stay with you for life."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Stella had seen a lot of things in her time as a leading CSI. Decapitated and dismembered bodies, bodies burnt to a crunchy crisp by fire, human remains that came right out of a full-grown tiger's belly. Spatula Man ranked at the top as one for squicking people out at dinners. An adult man squished into a gory, flat pancake by a ship's container wasn't something even somebody like her saw everyday. One aspect of her job she valued was that it built up her tolerance towards grisly sights and scenes. It helped her remember every murderer she hunted down had no justification whatsoever for their crimes. Her life was proof that being exposed to death, pain and violence everyday was no excuse for anyone to become a criminal or a killer.

There are some things in the world, however, that would never stop making her breath catch in her throat.

Stella slowly approached the bed where Danny rested. The sight of her younger co-worker and friend so still and quiet was unnerving, more so than the white bandages wrapped around his arms, hands and neck where the plain hospital gown and blanket didn't conceal. It was odd to see Danny's face without any facial hair; the smoothness made him look years younger. The redness all over his face made him appear to be blushing, which would have amused Stella in any other situation. She expected the clear ointment rubbed on his skin would ease the inflammation soon.

"He's gonna be so pissed off when he wakes up."

Flack sounded like he was talking to himself.

"Always gels his hair up like crazy every morning 'fore he gets to work. Drives me nuts sometimes 'cos he takes so long to make it look like he took a weed whacker to it anyway."

She gazed at Flack, noticing how rigid he was sitting in the chair next to Danny's bed. He was staring at a spot on the wall near Danny's head.

"Look at his hair now. It's all … _tufts_. Yeah, he's gonna be whining for weeks."

Stella stood beside him and squeezed a tense shoulder. When Flack didn't respond at all, she tenderly ran a hand over the back of his head. While she wasn't the kind to display affection openly very often, this was one of those moments where pride mattered jack.

"Hey. He's _alive_. He's going to be _fine_, okay?" Mac liked to call this her Mother Steel voice.

Flack continued to stare off into the distance, and Stella considered hauling him away to be treated for shock. All of a sudden, he jerked in his seat. She heard a rustling sound coming from the bed, and she glanced up.

Danny's eyes were open.

Flack was instantly hovering over Danny, bending over to put an ear close to Danny's moving lips.

"… where's my tea … you dumbass."

Flack's laughter was the best thing Stella heard all day.


	3. Chapter 3

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 3**

Danny was touched by all the 'Get Well Soon' cards and gifts he received from his co-workers at CSI headquarters. He got a surprise card from Mac, with a written message telling him he had a week off once he got out of the hospital. It also said Mac looked forward to him getting back on his feet and seeing him at work, which made his chest feel warm in a sunny way. Hawkes, who cut his vacation short after hearing what happened, personally came to visit him at the hospital and played chess with him. Danny didn't quite know how to react to Lindsay's gift of a box of liqueur chocolate. It creeped him out she somehow discovered this secret fondness of his despite him never telling a soul about it. (Except for the six-foot-tall guy who was currently looking very uncomfortable in the hard chair he was sitting on and watching television with him.)

He was also confused by a bright blue teddy bear one of the receptionists sent him, someone he didn't know at all. He threw it straight at Flack's head after the taller detective mumbled under his breath, with a sarcastic leer, that Danny was a closet girl just bursting to show off his femininity. Flack was a dolt like that. Danny would rather be strangled than confess he didn't care what Flack said about him, as long as they could hang out together this way as long as possible.

Flack visited him everyday, regardless of how much work he had to do at the precinct since Danny was first admitted four days ago. Not even the minor fever he abruptly contracted on the second day stopped Flack from getting into his room, much to the chagrin of the nurses. Stella tried to see him as often too, but with Danny out of the field and the extra investigation into the explosion, they were required to be very brief visits. They made Danny happy all the same. Stella was his ears and eyes back at headquarters while he was away. After listening to her tirade about IAB giving everyone a hard time and slowing matters down, he felt very compelled to punch Chief Hillborne in the face if they ever crossed paths again. He had a bad feeling he was fated to.

Danny ran a hand across the top of his head for the hundredth time that day. It was true he took pride in maintaining a professional and stylish appearance, though not to the point of vanity. His hair, he supposed, was one of his positive physical attributes, if it was styled right. When he was fresh out of high school, he made the mistake of growing it out into an awful mullet. Well, he sure wasn't going _there_ again. He'd kept his hair short and spiked ever since then. It looked good on him anyway.

"Will ya stop worrying 'bout your hair? It's _fine_."

Flack flung the teddy bear back at him, and he caught it with his right hand. The bandages on his body came off in the morning. He'd spent a half hour simply gawking at his arms and hands. Or rather, their newly _hairless_ appearance. He didn't even dare to pull away the hospital gown to look at his chest and abdomen. Or his legs. He had to fight back the urge to laugh at the dim recollection of one of his girlfriends dumping him just because he thought waxing his chest was disgusting.

"Yeah, _suuure_ it's fine. I look like - like Cousin It's _cousin_."

Flack made a face.

"Cousin It had hair all the way down to his _toes_. You, my friend, have _none_." Flack swung around awkwardly in the chair and got up to dramatically inspect Danny's head from ear to ear. "No, _waaaait_. Make that, clumps of hair here and there that'll make even a poodle cry."

Danny elbowed Flack hard enough in the stomach to make him go, "Oof!" boisterously. Danny smiled innocently at Flack, who pressed a hand to the bruised area and was glaring at him.

"Whoops. It slipped." Danny lifted his hands up in the typical surrender pose.

"Ha ha, very funny." Flack still glowered, but the quivering of his lips betrayed his amusement. He flopped back into the chair, involuntarily flinching at the ache in his back muscles. Danny's keen eyes spotted it.

"Look, get your ass over here." Danny nimbly moved to one side of the bed. "Don't hafta be all Superman and act like you got muscles of steel or whatever."

"'Cuse me? _Act_ like I got muscles of steel?" Flack took off his shoes and clambered onto the bed beside Danny. He'd already taken off his pink jacket the moment he came over. "I _got_ muscles of steel. Don't need to act." Flack snatched the box of chocolates on a table next to the bed and shoved it at Danny's chest. "Now _you_, on the other hand, need all the help you can get."

"Fuck off," Danny said with a snicker. He opened it up and popped a piece of liqueur chocolate into his mouth. He had to acknowledge it; Lindsay did have fine taste in confectionary.

It was a tight squeeze, having two grown men sitting shoulder to shoulder on the single bed, but Danny wasn't going to complain. Big-ass explosion and hospitalization aside, he hadn't felt this good in a long time. They lounged in silence, watching some television series about a fictional FBI department dedicated to searching for missing persons. Half-way through the episode, he began daydreaming about what it would be like to be an FBI agent instead of a CSI. Would he still be the same guy he was today? The more he thought about it, the more persuaded he was that he'd be very different. If he'd been an FBI agent … he would never have met Flack.

"You scared the fuck outta _everyone_."

The vehemence in Flack's voice prompted Danny to stare at him with wide eyes. Flack kept his eyes on the television screen, chewing on a piece of chocolate, but still, Danny felt like Flack was staring right back at him. Flack didn't have to say it aloud. Danny knew what he was _really_ trying to declare.

_You scared the fuck outta **me**._

They stayed that way for a few minutes, Danny staring at Flack while Flack avoided looking at Danny like he'd raze down to ashes if he did so. On the television, the Cuban FBI agent was chasing a perp down some sandy hill on a racing bike, the soundtrack of gunshots and fast-paced music adding a surreal mood to the moment.

" … Don -"

Some emotion flickered in Flack's big, blue eyes. He blinked, and at length, turned his head to return Danny's gaze.

And then Danny wished he hadn't.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Head Nurse Patricia Fleer, a thirty year veteran, was notorious for her sternness when it came to adhering to hospital rules. It didn't count whether they were major rules regarding the surgeons themselves or minor rules dictating how patients should conduct themselves. Rules were rules, and Head Nurse Fleer made sure all the nurses in her staff obeyed them, including herself.

That is, until the most gorgeous man she'd ever set eyes on came running up to her one morning, asking for the status on a Detective Danny Messer. One glance into those stunning cerulean eyes, and she was a goner. She wasn't the only one who became captivated with the tall police officer, and it gave her great satisfaction to be able to scold her junior nurses for gossiping about him.

And oh, there was without doubt _plenty_ to gossip about.

Detective Flack (or _Don_, as she liked to call him in her fantasies) was a very regular visitor to his wounded fellow detective in room 107. On every visit, he had something for his friend, usually snack food that she turned a blind eye on the moment Detective Flack gave her a blinding smile. On the second day when Detective Messer suffered a slight fever from his superficial burns, she endeavored to stand her ground and tell Detective Flack he was _not_ to stay in the room for more than ten minutes. Again, she fell victim to his gleaming pearly whites, and she threw her hands up in defeat. It was a lost cause to fight against a force like that. And no, she did _not_ give up because it meant she'd get to see him more often. _No way_.

By the third day, all her nurses were whispering among each other that there was more to the attractive Detective Flack than meets the eye. One of them had caught him staring at the other detective dozing in bed, and it wasn't the way a regular guy would at a regular guy friend either. Another nurse caught them food fighting with some jello Detective Flack had sneaked in. Detective Messer was practically mashing dark red jello all over Detective Flack's face, cackling like a little boy. Detective Messer had yellow jello splattered on his scalp, which, Detective Flack later claimed was because the other detective 'missed his hair'.

Today was the fourth and final day of Detective Messer's stay, which meant it was also probably the last time Head Nurse Fleer would ever see Detective Flack. No, she was _not_ tearing up at the thought. She had more important issues to attend to than lamenting over a handsome cop nearly half her age.

She picked up a dinner tray of food and headed for room 107. Detective Flack had most likely fed the room's occupant full with whatever food he brought in on his visit, but she wanted to make sure Detective Messer received his full three meals anyway. And if Detective Flack was there, that was simply a wonderful bonus.

Nearing the room, she could hear the sound of the television turned on. She knocked on the door, frowning faintly when there was no answer. She knocked again. No reply, save for the music coming from the television. Troubled now, she swiftly entered the room.

"Excuse me, Detective Mes-"

For a split-second, she saw both Detectives Flack and Messer sitting side by side on the bed, facing each other and so close their noses were almost touching. She gasped loudly. The next instant, Detective Flack was falling head over heels backwards onto the floor so his gangly legs were sticking upwards at the ceiling, while Detective Messer's whole face and neck was crimson red as he quickly jumped back under the blanket and tried to act like nothing was going on. The next instant after that, Detective Flack was back on his feet, fretfully rearranging his clothes though they were okay and _also_ trying to act like nothing was going on.

"Uhm … dinner?" She smiled at them both, winking at Detective Flack.

"_Heeey_, Patricia! Nice to see ya again." If Detective Flack's voice was six octaves higher than usual, she didn't say a word about it. "I - uh - I gotta go already."

Detective Flack grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on in a manner bordering on comical. When his arm missed the sleeve opening for the third time, Detective Messer unexpectedly erupted into laughter, bending over on the bed, his face more red than ever. Detective Flack slapped one hand down his face, but it hardly hid the embarrassed smile curving up his lips.

"If you'd like me to leave you boys _alone_ …" Head Nurse Fleer took a step backwards.

"No! No, it's alright, I really do hafta go." Detective Flack cleared his throat, smoothed down his tie and then scrupulously put on his jacket, looking like his typical, professional self again. His face was as red as Detective Messer's. She was of the opinion it was truly endearing.

"Hey, uh, Danny, I'll, uhm, be here to pick you up tomorrow morning, 'kay?" It was even more endearing how Detective Flack was behaving like a boy who just had his first kiss.

"Sure. See you tomorrow, Don." Detective Messer evidently felt the same way, judging from the gleam in his eyes and the tiny smile.

Detective Flack couldn't quite look her in the eye as he smiled politely at her, striding past, the door closing behind him with a soft click. It didn't matter. What she witnessed a few minutes before was more than enough to last her a lifetime.

"I'm sorry if I was disturbing anything." Head Nurse Fleer set the tray down next to the bed. Even with most of his hair missing and having gone through a traumatic experience just a few days ago, Detective Messer was still a very good-looking man. She wasn't sure if he even heard her; he seemed to be in deep contemplation, the smile lingering.

"Hmm? No, no. It was time for dinner anyway." She gazed intently at him, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be disappointment in his blue eyes. Ah, she'd unquestionably interrupted something, alright. She sighed inwardly.

Why were all the hot men always gay?


	4. Chapter 4

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 4**

"Yo, Flack! When's Messer getting over here?"

Flack made a face at the guys playing hoops on the outdoor basketball court. It was Saturday night, also affectionately known as hoop night. He sat on an old wooden bench, inclined forward with his elbows on knees, mobile phone to ear. The New York night breeze cooled him off, drying the sweat that made his sleeveless black jersey cling to his torso.

"Hold on. I'm callin' him again."

He listened to the beeping tone, vigorously tapping his right sneaker-bound foot on the cement ground.

"C'mon, c'mon, pickup_pickup_."

His brows furrowed when he was directed to Danny's voice mailbox for the third time. What the? This was _not_ like Danny. A soft thumping of shoes towards him, and he gazed up to see Chad with the basketball being juggled between wiry, dexterous hands.

"No answer?" Flack wasn't well-acquainted with the young lab technician, though Chad already worked at the labs at the CSI head office for a number of years. It was after the explosion that the skinny, eccentric man shyly asked if he could join him and Danny at their hoop sessions, to his astonishment. Chad was not only damn good at his job, he turned out to be damn good at basketball too. Flack suspected the lab technician was still sensing the trauma from the explosion nearly two weeks ago. Hell, he was still feeling every bit of it _himself_.

And _Chad_ had been the one who lent Mac a hand in pinning him to the ground. Literally. He was mortified about it for days until Chad accosted him in privacy to discuss the incident while he was at CSI headquarters. The young lab tech's exterior front of an odd punk camouflaged his inner professionalism and maturity very well. Their short talk was a solemn reminder to Flack to not judge a book by its cover so straightforwardly.

"Nope." Flack closed his mobile phone with a huff and stood up. "I think I'm gonna go over to his apartment and see what's going on."

"Okay. I'll let the guys know." Chad bounced the ball twice and jogged back onto the court. "Take care, see ya later!"

Flack waved goodbye, picking up his knapsack next to him on the bench. He should have known something was up by this morning. Flack'd called up Danny only to get to his voice mail, so he assumed Danny was busy with something or was chatting with somebody else. Flack hadn't seen him for a few days either thanks to the rapid increase of workload over new homicide cases. Left a message reminding Danny about hoop night and didn't think more about it. He was so certain Danny was going to show up, what with the newly discharged CSI going on and on about bounding back into action when he picked him up at the hospital last week.

He dumped the knapsack in the backseat of his car, mechanically locking the side door and clinching his seat belt. He was getting that sinking sensation again, in the pit of his stomach. He _hated_ it. Flack picked up his phone and attempted one last time to contact Danny.

"Damnit, Danny."

He revved the engine, heading for the CSI's apartment in Queens. If Danny was messing with some chick and merely forgot to call him back, he was _so_ going to kick that guy's butt, explosion survivor or not.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The hallway leading to Danny's apartment always took Flack back to the sixties. The multi-coloured tiles spanning the floor made him feel like he was descending into a psychedelic whirlpool, and maybe if he actually jumped in, he'd come out a long-haired hippie on the other side. Tonight, they made everything seem even more dreamlike. Could somebody get nauseous just looking at ugly tiles? He thanked God the nasty things didn't go up onto the walls and ceiling too.

Danny's door was, in contrast, a simple black door, with the gold numbers 316 on it. It was just like Danny to go for black when everyone else on the same floor had doors in pale, pleasant colours. Flack rapped on it with his knuckles.

"Danny! Hey, it's Flack." He waited for a few seconds. Peeking downwards, he could see orange lighting seeping through from under the door.

"Danny, open up, I know you're in there. C'mon, I got your favourite Chinese takeout from down the street." He knocked harder on the door. That was a little white lie, but he hoped it got Danny to come to the door.

He was slightly startled when an old, petite woman half his height suddenly materialized next to him. Flack beamed at her.

"Oh, good evening, Mrs. Penrose! How ya doin'?" Mrs. Penrose was a ninety-three year old, sweet lady who lived in the apartment next to Danny's. She was very short, even for a woman, and suffered from arthritis. It forced her to use a cane to move around, but she was scarcely helpless. For someone her age, she was amazingly astute and intellectual. Flack found that out the hard way the first time they met. He'd ended up red-faced after she corrected him on some police procedures he was explaining to her, and later learnt she was completely right. Her late husband was a decorated police officer during his time, which enlightened Flack on how she knew what she did, and why she had a soft spot for both him and Danny. That, and she baked the yummiest chocolate brownies ever.

"Good evening, Donny. It's lovely to see you again." Apart from his former partner Gavin Moran and his dad, Mrs. Penrose was the only human being who got to call him that way and live to tell people about it. (Danny had yet to call him that, but if he did, chances were, he'd join the exclusive list too. But _only_ him.) "I had a wonderful day today. Magda came over for tea and brownies. Would you like to have some?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Penrose." He took one delicate hand and patted it. "I'll hafta take a rain check on that. I'm here to see Danny."

"Ohh." She motioned for Flack to bow down, whispering to him in stagy, hushed tones. "Daniel hasn't come out in _three days_. I'm worried he might not be feeling well." Flack's eyes widened.

"Are ya sure, ma'am?"

"Oh yes, he always wakes up every morning before eight. The walls here are quite thin, so sometimes I can hear him moving around in his apartment." She puckered her lips for a moment. "I know he's having a week off work, he told me so this Tuesday."

Flack recalled that time clearly; it was the day he drove Danny back to his apartment from the hospital. They never did tell her what happened to Danny.

"But ever since Wednesday, I haven't seen a peep out of him." Mrs. Penrose's kind eyes were filled with anxiety. "I heard something crash this morning … I thought he'd simply dropped something. Would you be so kind to see if Daniel's alright?"

"Of course, Mrs. Penrose. I'll take care of it, okay?" He gave her a comforting smile, leading her back to her open door nearby. "Don't worry about it." He smiled at her again, closing the door.

It was official. The sinking feeling in his stomach was going code red.

"Danny! Open _up!_" Courtesy flew out the window with the banging of his fist on Danny's apartment door. "I mean it -"

"_Leave me **alone**, Flack!_"

At _last_. He exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. The little brat was okay after all. It took a few seconds for his brain to figure out something wasn't right with Danny's voice. He might well be wrong … but he could've sworn Danny sounded like he'd been bawling his eyes out for _hours_.

"Hey, just let me _in_, will ya? I wanna know you're okay. I _swear_ I'll break down the door. You know I will!"

Silence. Then a shuffling of feet to the door. Two distinct clicking sounds, and the black door gradually creaked open. Flack pressed his way in, footsteps harsh on the boarded floor.

A single lamp was on, leaving only a tiny area by the left side of the apartment door lit. The rest of the apartment was in semi-darkness. Danny hadn't bothered to turn on the other lights, and for some reason, this caused an imaginary alarm to go off in Flack's head. Flack instinctively reached out to flick the light switches on the right side of the door, eyes squinted as he searched for the other man. The main ceiling lights came on.

Everything appeared normal, at first glance. Danny's apartment was sparse in interior decoration and furniture. The art posters of Klimt and Schiele were neatly framed and arranged at equal distances on the wall above Danny's television set. The black-and-stainless steel dining table and chairs were exactly where they always were. A shelf of forensic journals, art books and a whole collection of eclectic tomes still leaned precariously perpendicular to the television. The small kitchen was neat and clean, and the door to the bedroom was closed.

And on a brown, battered couch facing the turned-off television was Danny, huddled in a puffy, oversized coat, his back towards Flack.

Flack cautiously walked into the living area. He hadn't forgotten Mrs. Penrose's mention of something crashing that morning. Another imaginary alarm had gone off the instant he saw the stark 'CSI' letters of Danny's coat. What was he doing wearing it indoors, and off-duty?

"Danny? You okay?"

Danny didn't answer, except to tighten the folds of his coat around his body.

Moving closer, Flack finally saw the source of whatever noise Mrs. Penrose had heard that morning. The glass coffee table in front of the couch was shattered to pieces, angular transparent shards littering the floor around it. There were dark red specks on a few of them, glistening under the illumination. Flack immediately presumed Danny'd injured himself, seating himself next to his unnaturally quiet friend.

"Hey, c'mon. _Talk_ to me, buddy." His voice unconsciously dropped to a soothing tone. Flack caught sight of more flecks of red on Danny's right hand. He carefully stretched out a hand to touch Danny on the arm, reeling back in disbelief at Danny's violent recoil. How did they go from being so open and responsive to each other to _this_?

"I said, _leave me the hell alone_." Flack undoubtedly knew now he hadn't been hearing things. Danny was all hoarse and gravelly. Red, swollen rings encircled his blue eyes as he glared at Flack, gripping the lapels of his coat as if his life depended on it. The acute misery in them struck a chord of déjà vu in Flack. The last time he'd seen that emotion in those eyes, he was face to face with Danny at that diner near his precinct. Hours after Danny was accused of killing that undercover cop.

Something snapped within Flack.

"Ohhh _no_. You're not pulling _this_ shit on me again." He seized Danny's upper arm in a solid grip, ignoring Danny's outraged cry. "I'm _here_ and I'm _listening_ to you. I'm not going _anywhere_ until you _talk_ to me."

Danny's face was frozen in an expression of terror, and for a second, Flack regretted scaring him like that. Then Danny swung a fist at him. Flack's physical training kicked in on the spot; he blocked it with his forearm, hurling his body onto Danny's and squashing the shorter man beneath him. Danny acted like a feral cat gone rabid, arms and legs thrashing here and there, fighting Flack off. Flack used his height and longer limbs to his advantage, pinning Danny's arms to his sides so he wouldn't hurt either of them.

"_Owww! _Geddoffa_me! Geddoff!_" Danny's face now contorted into one of real pain.

Lying with all his weight on top of his friend, _that_ was when he felt them.

Flack leapt off the other guy as if he got electrocuted, landing painfully onto the floor next to the couch and miraculously missing any glass shards. There was no fucking _way_ he felt what he thought he felt. He sat up, absent-mindedly rubbing at his hip. Danny was curled up on the couch, knees drawn upwards. The poor guy was still wincing, his arms wrapped around his chest.

"Owww, _fuck_. They really _do_ hurt being squeezed too hard."

Flack could only stare with saucer-wide eyes and a gaping mouth … at the most voluptuous, smooth pair of DD-sized breasts he'd ever laid eyes upon on his friend's formerly flat chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 5**

Flack had a very special saying for situations like these.

"What the friggedy fuckity friggin' FUCKIN' _FUUUUUUUUCK!_"

Shocked was a _major_ understatement in describing how Flack was feeling.

Danny sat upright on the couch, hands fidgeting and running up and down his arms frenetically, eyes darting from side to side in the predictable fight or flight behaviour. Under the bulky CSI coat, he was wearing one of those black tank tops he loved so much, and loose, grey pajama trousers that hung low on his hips. Normally, Danny's tank tops fitted just right, but the considerable breasts that'd taken the place of his flat pectorals distended the one he was wearing to the point it drew upwards and exposed his belly.

Even in its bewildered state, Flack's mind managed to note Danny's abdomen and chest were still baby-smooth and utterly hairless, as well as his hands and face. Even his _feet_ were. Didn't make sense Danny would shave his face at a time like this anyway. A muscle in Flack's face twitched. When he got out of the hospital Danny complained so much about his bad hair condition, Flack had fetched him to the closest barber to get _everything_ shaved off his head. Danny's head was now sporting a _full_ scalp of spiky hair. In fact, it looked more thick and luxurious than it'd ever been. Another muscle in Flack's face twitched.

He was going to forever think back to this night as The Night He Went Into the Fucked Up Twilight Zone and Found His Best Friend with Hot DD-Sized Boobs. And he wasn't exaggerating at all by putting _those_ into the category of _hot_.

His eyes inevitably strayed downwards to Danny's chest. On an average-sized woman, those breasts would be humongous. She'd be a total freak with the power to make everyone faint dead away with horror. However, on Danny's build, they were … perfect. They weren't the appalling, fake ones that looked like stone-hard basketballs so common in porn magazines. They were the kind that melted Flack's whole body into an ecstatic, gooey mass, the kind that made even the coldest son of a bitch drop on his knees with awe and adoration.

Flack's brain screamed at him to hold Danny and console the distraught guy.

His mouth had other ideas.

"Danny … I know you've been going through rough times, buddy, but - but … you didn't have to do _THIS_." Flack was mentally slamming his forehead into a brick wall over and over even before the last word left his lips. Correction; he was going to forever think back to this night as The Night He Went Into the Fucked Up Twilight Zone and Found His Best Friend with Hot DD-Sized Boobs _AND_ Made It a Gazillion Times Worse With a Dumbass Comment.

Danny's ruddy eyes were so wide Flack could see the whites of his eyes all around the blue irises. Danny's face turned deep scarlet.

"I DIDN'T GO FOR A _BOOB JOB_, YOU **_ASSHOLE!_**"

Flack grimaced, clambering away just in time to avoid being konked in the skull by a standard ceramic flower pot.

"THEY GREW OVERNIGHT! GREW! _GRRRREEEEEEEEW!_"

Flack scrambled to his feet, arms up in a placating stance. Whoa, a hormonal, hysterical Danny was a petrifying, _unstable_ Danny.

"I'm sorry! I'm _sorry! _That was a really _stupid_ comment!" Flack cringed on impulse, eyes squeezed shut, anticipating another lethal Weapon of Flack Destruction aimed at him. Ten seconds passed. Flack cracked a eye open.

Oh, man. A hysterical Danny wasn't scary.

A _crying_ one was.

Danny was hunched over, face buried in his hands, feet on top of each other. Lean shoulders shook with each muted sob. A broken arm couldn't make Danny cry. Falling down a flight of stairs as a kid couldn't do it. Not even getting bashed in the back with a baseball bat during a perp chase did it.

_He_ did. Great going, Flack. Wonderful pal he was.

Flack warily tiptoed over the shower of glass wedges on the floor. He resettled himself beside Danny. Was Danny going to punch him again if Flack touched him? Only one way to find out. Flack draped one muscular arm across Danny's trembling shoulders, inwardly thankful the other man didn't push him away.

"I'm sorry, really, I am." Flack pulled Danny sideways onto him, propping the shorter man's head on his shoulder. Danny kept his face obscured in his hands, but Flack felt him nuzzle his head against his shoulder. "Shh, it's okay." They remained in that posture for some time; Flack ruffling Danny's hair continually, Danny nestling into his shoulder and chest, sobs growing fainter.

"I'm scared, Don." Danny's voice was husky and weak. He dragged his hands away, winding his fingers into the collar of his coat. "I dunno how this happened to me."

"We'll figure somethin' out. We always do." Flack saw that Danny's feet were bare. He nudged Danny gently in the side. "C'mon. Let's go to the bedroom. We'll clean this mess up later." Danny merely nodded, standing up along with Flack.

Flack made sure Danny didn't step on any of the broken glass, holding tightly to the other detective's forearm. Flack was disturbed by how thin Danny was, and how he seemed to be carrying him more than Danny was walking on his own. It was really hitting him now what a grim situation this was. Danny's head was beginning to loll a bit as Flack opened the bedroom door and laid him on his side on the queen-sized bed. Flack didn't dare to remove the coat; the last thing he wanted to do was upset Danny again.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Danny minutely shook his head. "Yesterday?" Danny shook his head again. Parking himself heavily onto the bed near the other man, Flack took out his cel phone and punched a number.

"I'm orderin' Chinese. The takeout down the street okay?"

"Thought you already got Chinese takeout for me." Danny wasn't one to easily forget the particulars. Flack smirked.

"Heh. I didn't. Figured you'd open the door if I said so, ya Chinese food freak."

Flack was infinitely pleased at Danny's diminutive smile. There was hope after all.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The prawn cheong fan looked appetizing. Danny silently chewed on a piece of siew mai while he observed Flack adeptly pluck some of it with a pair of wooden chopsticks and stick it in his mouth.

No one would ever guess at first impression, but Danny was a connoisseur of Chinese cuisine. There was even less of a chance anyone would guess he was also able to converse in rudimentary Chinese. One of the perks of having had an Asian girlfriend or three, he thought. He deemed many Asian women to be beautiful; maybe it was the idea of connecting to someone from an exotic nation he found so appealing. Regrettably, the last turned out to be a total psychobitch who ended up eloping with an old, rich geezer twenty years her senior. Heh, you win some, you lose some.

Flack, on the other hand, couldn't put up with Chinese food. Or so he thought anyway, until Danny blackmailed him into going to a Chinese restaurant in downtown Manhattan the first year they befriended each other. The tall detective was hooked to dim sum and stir-fried noodles ever since. As well as pretty Asian waitresses.

Ordinarily, Danny could devour a plate of fried vermicelli, a whole lot of dim sum and another plate of bak choi all by himself. Tonight, he could barely eat more than a few mouthfuls. The double weights on his chest was effectively killing whatever appetite he had. So _this_ was how women with gigantic breasts felt. His back and neck ached like crazy.

"So, _talk_." Flack's blue eyes were piercing in the diffused glow emanating from the ceiling light above the dining table. "Startin' from Wednesday."

Danny placed his chopsticks on his plate. "Wednesday … yeah, that was gym day."

"You went to the _gym_? Even after the doctor told ya to _relax_ and _not_ do any _strenuous activity_?" Flack's neutral expression didn't change, but Danny knew Flack wasn't happy with that.

"Whaaat? I was in bed for nearly a week! I needed to geddout and _move_. Ya know, pumps, treadmill, yaddayadda."

Flack made a disapproving face. "Good old _walking_ isn't good enough?"

Danny sighed. "Look, you wanna hear what I gotta say or what?" he asked resignedly.

Flack made a zipping motion across his tightened lips, then beckoned Danny to carry on.

"So, Wednesday, went to the gym. Came back here straight away after that." Danny fingered the long bandage plastered across the top of his right hand. "Felt really tired, so I took a shower and napped. Woke up 'bout a couple a' hours later. Still felt tired, went back to sleep some more."

Flack was frowning, tapping his fingers methodically on the table. His stare never wavered.

"Think I slept all the way past Thursday into Friday." Flack's fingers stopped tapping. "Was like I couldn't get outta bed. Every time I opened my eyes, I felt like crap. Chest was sore like a bitch. I thought I was comin' down with some flu." Danny kept his gaze on the leftover food, evading Flack's questioning eyes. "Went to the kitchen for some water, showered again to wake myself up or somethin'. Didn't work, so I went to bed again."

Danny squirmed visibly in his seat. "Slept some more … woke up this morning and -" - his voice choked up into a murmur - "_There_ they were."

"Coffee table?"

Danny's head whipped up at the question. " … I kinda … lost it." His mouth contorted into a narrow, upside-down U.

Flack exhaled loudly. "Danny." He placed a big hand over Danny's bandaged one. "We gotta tell Mac abo -"

Danny immediately shot to his feet, his chair toppling to the floor. "Are you _NUTS! _If Mac finds out about _this_, I'm _done for!_" Danny paled at the sudden, horrifying image of Lindsay and the rest of the team laughing their heads off at him. The humiliation was unthinkable.

Flack was trying very, _very_ hard not to look at Danny's ample breasts. Damn, they _did_ look fantastic in a black tank top. "_Listen_ to me, 'kay!" His hands landed on Danny's shoulders. "This. Is. _Serious_. You remember what you told Stella that day?"

When Danny had woken up at the hospital, Stella'd taken a statement from him regarding the explosion and how it might have transpired. All he recalled telling her was having a bad night, cleaning up some sections of the new lab he was working in … Flack calling him … and the weird blue substance -

"Oh _shit_." Danny's mouth was now in an 'O' shape.

"Yeah, oh shit. We gotta tell Mac about this … 'cos if that blue stuff's what changed you -" Flack bit his lip.

"We're talkin' 'bout one fuckin' _dangerous_ contagion here."


	6. Chapter 6

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 6**

On the second day of Danny's hospitalization, a tall, silver-haired man in the light blue scrubs of an ME tied the final suture to seal up the Y-incision extending over the dead body's chest.

Syd Hammerback pinched the area between his eyes, mystified by his findings.

This was …_ illogical_.

He placed his spectacles back onto his eagle-hooked nose as rapid, clacking footsteps alerted him to the incoming presence of Detective Bonasera.

"Hammerback, what's the news?" She was utterly lovely in a low, v-neck sweater and black trousers, her copious, wavy hair tied in a high ponytail. Hammerback smiled at her, face crinkled up. Ahh, the Greek rose in his garden of weeds had returned to grace him with her blossoming splendor. Stella paused on the opposite side of the autopsy table, looking at the female corpse lying on its chilly, steel surface.

A few days back, Stella and Mac had answered the call to a DB found chucked in the dank recesses of an alley, a couple of blocks away from the Museum of Natural History in upper Manhattan. It had been a cold night, with a biting wind that made everyone just as bitter. The body was slumped against the brick wall and a dumpster, chin on chest, arms and legs spread wide apart. Stella wasn't even going to comment on the _enormous_ breasts.

Stella's eyes were drawn to it straight away. Even from a distance, the glowing, neon-blue substance splattered all over the corpse made it stand out like a beacon in the darkness. The viscous stuff reminded her of that slimy, green ghost from the Ghostbusters. For a woman, the victim was really tall; she'd have loomed at the height of at least six foot three. Taller than _Flack_, a thought that made Stella's eyebrow arch.

Looking at the same body in a reclining position and cleaned, Stella was even more aware of how tall the woman was, in addition to the squareness of the jaw and brow. The abnormally large hands and feet led her to one conclusion, but she kept quiet. She wanted to hear what Hammerback had to say. He appeared uneasy.

"_Yikes_."

Stella spun around to see Mac with an aghast expression on his face.

"Well, _this_ certainly explains why more male lab technicians are loitering outside than normal."

Stella's red lips twitched.

"Detective Taylor, good of you to join us," Hammerback greeted drolly. "I'm not quite sure how to break this to you …" Hammerback directed their gazes to the victim's lower abdomen area. He had left the opening unsutured, so Stella and Mac had a first-class view of yet another human being's insides. "On the _outside_, this person can safely be assumed to be a woman. However, on the _inside_ …" - Hammerback peeled back the flesh for more visibility - "Take a look for yourself."

They peered inside.

Stella made a face. "Hmm. No female reproductive organs."

"Exactly. I've found no indication that any were previously removed by surgery. No internal cut marks whatsoever. No uterus either, although the external female genitals are present."

"So, what we have here … is a transexual." She angle her head to the left, eyebrows lifted. Hammerback mimicked her, angling his head to his left. Mac allowed himself a minuscule smirk at their antics.

"Yes, I thought so too. _However_ …" - he gestured towards the mountainous breasts - "_Those_ are giving me second thoughts."

Stella smirked, sending him a mock glare. "_Behave_ yourself, Hammerback."

He laughed in reply. "Oh _no_, I only have eyes for you." He dipped his head bashfully.

Stella was grinning now. "_Beeeehave_."

Hammerback coughed, pushing up his spectacles with a finger. "_Yes_, as I was saying, I'm having doubts about the gender of our murder victim here." He repositioned the fluorescent laboratory lamps over the corpse's chest area. "Breasts like these are impossible without both a concentrated treatment of hormones and breast implants. I mean …" - Hammerback's bushy eyebrows raised in amusement - "These are breasts the size of _Mount Everest _we're discussing here. Even a natural _woman_ with huge breasts would need additional implants to get to this size."

"As far as I know, hormone treatments alone have only produced 'naturally' grown breasts with the largest size of B-cups so far. Don't ask how I know," he quickly added before Stella could make a sarcastic remark. He pressed a gloved hand against the bottom of one massive breast, exposing the underside. "No surgical scars at _all_. X-rays show no implants either."

It was Mac's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Hmmm. This _is_ interesting."

Hammerback nodded. "So, we're looking at a new, _very_ radical, _non-surgical _breast enlargement procedure … or it's time to give Agent Mulder and Scully a call to take back their gender-bender shape-shifter."

"X-Files fan, I see," Stella said.

"Oh _yes_, I particularly enjoyed the episode where Agent Mulder exchanged bodies with that government lackey after the spacecra-" Hammerback swallowed whatever else he was going to say at Mac's pointed look. "What about the blue substance found all over the body? Have you figured out what it is?" Hammerback slanted his head in a questioning stance.

Mac frowned. "No, Danny was working on that when the explosion occurred. We lost all the samples there, but -" - Mac took out a white, opaque container from a pocket in his coat - "I collected some more from Danny while they were admitting him to the hospital. It's all that's left."

"And how _is_ Detective Messer?"

"He had a fever." Stella instantly gave Mac a firm stare, which Mac returned with an encouraging one. "It's gone down. Flack called up a while ago to let me know."

Stella sighed audibly.

Hammerback picked up some papers off a wheeled trolley next to the autopsy table, handing them to Mac. "Fingerprints."

Mac took them with a nod. "I'll get Lindsay to run them through AFIS. Meanwhile, I'll work on whatever this blue, gooey stuff is. Thanks, Hammerback."

Mac and Stella pushed through the heavy doors of the autopsy room, heading for the labs upstairs. She smiled at him, eyes twinkling. "Gooey. Now _there_'s a good forensic word."

"Hey, _I_ said that first!"

On the day Flack drove Danny back to his apartment from the hospital, Lindsay was sitting in front of a black, sleek computer monitor, watching AFIS scanning through the millions of fingerprints stored in its vast database. She gently kicked at her chair's strut with her heel in a monotonous rhythm. She was somewhat peeved that Mac'd delegated this menial task to her when she could be helping him or Stella or Hawkes out with the investigation into the explosion. Hadn't they already gotten over her newbie status ages ago? She was a qualified and accomplished CSI, _damnit_.

Her kicks became harder. She had to admit to herself the only person on the team who'd given her a difficult time since she arrived was Danny. First day on the job, she was cool with the edgy teasing from the spectacled guy. She should have known his niceness by advising her to call Mac 'sir' was all an act to get her in trouble anyway. It was so obvious, but she really wanted to make a good impression on her new boss. After all, he'd chosen _her_ out of so many possible candidates in the country for the job opportunity. There was no way in hell she was gonna blow it.

Danny's actions and attitude baffled her. She had no idea whether to reckon he was interested in her, or hated her Montana guts. From the outside, people had the view he had some kind of high school crush on her. They didn't say it to her face, of course, but she had ears, she could hear just fine. The first week she and Danny worked together, she thought the same thing too.

On the second day alone, she'd noticed him staring at her in at least five different instances from the corner of her eye. It was always an aloof, appraising stare, as if he was trying to figure out who she really was. Or whether he could dig up her darkest secrets merely by looking at her long enough. That sent a shiver up her spine. She had secrets, alright ... secrets bad enough to make her run away forever from the place she once called home. If Danny truly had some kind of grudge against her, she had to be extremely careful. She couldn't afford to lose another job like this due to somebody's embittered heart all over again.

On the fourth day, Lindsay was beginning to figure out there was something much bigger going on in the picture than she could see. Something almost _sinister_. She was sick of him calling her Montana way too much for her liking, and told him off straight into his face. At first, she was pacified by his seemingly sincere apology, his excuse he was just 'protecting' her because she was new. Later that evening, she ruminated over it and realized that it was a totally lame excuse. _Protect_ her? From what? A couple of spoilt, rich dead teenagers who got their heads blown off by bullets? She'd seen _far_ worse sights than that. Nope, Danny wasn't sorry at all.

By the end of that week, he asked her out to lunch after interviewing a few potential suspects, an offer she declined on the spot. She heard the frustration, and even resentment, clearly in his voice. Her gut instincts told her she'd done the right thing. In some way, she knew he wasn't upset solely because she said no. She felt as if her rejection had thrown a huge wrench into the cogs of whatever ominous plan he had in mind. She was convinced the hostility brewing between them had to do with a mutual person in their lives.

Mac.

Her new boss was like the opposite mirror image of Danny. While Danny was highly emotional, prone to rebellion and brashness, Mac was a steady pillar of composure and reliability. He had a presence that commanded respect and humility. His awarded past as a Marine significantly contributed to the general public's deferential opinion of him as well. Only a fool would be stupid enough to mess around with a man who could disassemble and reassemble a variety of firearms in _seconds_. Even Stella, the fiery phoenix of the team, thought twice before waging verbal combat with Mac.

Lindsay had no uncertainty when it came to Mac. She liked the guy, just not _that_ way. He was like the father or older brother she never had, someone she could look up to for counsel. It seemed he felt similarly towards her, from the way he watched her completing her tasks and commended her like a father would a favored child. She never sensed any sexual attraction between them at any time they were working together.

When Mac was with _Danny_, however, she could virtually _see_ the substantial difference in his body language. The moment the spiky-haired, younger CSI was near, Mac's back would stiffen with a tension Lindsay could only describe as anticipatory. His facial features would go blank; it was his hazel eyes that said everything. Danny would become all taut too, face set in a neutral air, and like Mac, it was his blue eyes that bared his inner sentiments. As annoying as Danny was, Lindsay knew he wasn't brainless. From what she'd heard, Danny got burnt by Mac's rebukes more than anyone else to date. So, the only rationalization she came up with over why Danny was so keen on getting into Mac's face and challenging him time and again … was because Mac _loved_ it and Danny _knew_ it.

She didn't understand why, but the thought made her leg jerk.

The computer emitted a shrill, pinging sound. _Yes! _AFIS had a confirmed match.

Then she focused on the screen. Lindsay's back hit the chair heavily.

The portentous logo of the FBI unfolded across the monitor, the words 'Access Denied' blatant in red below.


	7. Chapter 7

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 7**

The day Danny was unconscious in bed in his apartment before hoop night was the day the entire universe got flushed down a stinky toilet into the depths of a very confounding hell.

On most days, CSI headquarters _was_ the entire universe to Hawkes. Whether he was an ME or a CSI investigator out on the field, it was a place where he could eagerly lose himself in his work for hours at a time. His peers were fellow scientists and researchers who understood him on a level that everyday folk would never be able to. He had no desire to relive the awkward moments when his family or dates inquired about his work, if it was viable. A piece of decent advice? Don't tell a dinner date you spent the whole day rummaging through the dead fat guy's intestines searching for a tiny piece of evidence while she's chowing on spaghetti. It's a guarantee she won't be back for a second date.

On that precise day, he was trying to identify an unknown pink fiber taken off a little boy who'd been strangled to death in his home. Brutal child deaths made an unpleasant coil of rage wind him up deep inside every time. This case gave him the first nightmare he had in years since that gruesome infanticide case that happened in Staten Island. He'd _never_ forgotten _that_ one.

A loud shriek coming from the reception area drew his attention away from the microscope he was gazing into.

"_Wait! _You can't just _go_ in there!" It was Melinda, the headquarters' main receptionist. "Please let me inform Detective Taylor first!"

"Don't trouble yourself, Ms. Pearson. Maclaren _will_ talk with me."

Hawkes perked up. He rarely heard _anyone_ calling Mac by his full first name. He treaded into the hallway, eyes widening at a man who was maybe the most colossal human being he'd seen in his life. (And seriously, he'd seen a _lot_.)

The man had to be a whopping seven feet tall, with broad shoulders like unyielding granite. His face was as coarse and hard too, heavy-lidded grey eyes coolly checking out the surroundings. The man's crew-cut, silvery hair and the rough callouses on his mammoth hands implied he was someone who'd been around for a very long time. Even without the four other men dressed in dark macintoshes and expensive suits like himself, he exuded a formidable aura that strangely reminded Hawkes of documentaries about white Siberian tigers. They were breathtaking, but a single swipe of a clawed paw could kill a grown man instantaneously.

Melinda was scuttling behind the group of advancing men, pleading with them to stop. When one of the men ringing their giant leader forcibly propelled her aside, Hawkes decided enough was enough.

"Excuse me." Hawkes smiled politely at them. "I believe you're looking for Detective Taylor?" Although he didn't show it on the outside, Hawkes felt like he was shrinking smaller and smaller as the man loomed over him. Geez, if this guy was his _friend_, what were Mac's _enemies_ like?

"Yeah. Maclaren heads this office, right?" His voice was sonorous and gruff. It befitted his physique well. "Tell him AD Turgis wants to _talk_ to him. From the FBI."

The _FBI_? What had Mac gotten himself into?

"He's not here at the moment," Hawkes replied calmly. "I'll call him now to let him know you're here."

One of AD Turgis' men approached and said to his superior, "We don't have to wait for him to get everything."

It took a great deal of effort for Hawkes to keep his face neutral.

"_We wait_." AD Turgis' tone tolerated zero defiance.

Hawkes speedily selected Mac's contact on his mobile phone. This was _not_ good, not good at all. Two beeping sounds, and then Mac picked up.

"Taylor." Mac was all business.

"Mac, I think you should come down to your office straight away. There's an AD Turgis from the FBI looking for you."

There was a blunt silence. "Okay. I'm there." The line disconnected.

Melinda looked dazed, and tremendously intimidated by AD Turgis. Hawkes took a slim forearm in hand and smiled kindly at her. "Are you alright?" She nodded, smiling tremulously back. Then, Hawkes heard sturdy footsteps from behind. He sighed; he was very relieved to see Mac standing there with his typical glower, hazel eyes narrowed at the group of outsiders in his labs.

AD Turgis swivelled around to confront Mac face to face. "Maclaren."

Mac's facial features stayed passive, but there was a glimmer in his eyes where there wasn't before.

"It's been a while, Jon."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Jon Turgis was once a guy who smiled like it was the greatest fad in the whole freaking world. That in itself was funny, because at the time he was like this, he was a green, fresh-out-of-the-womb Marine who was receiving more shit from his commanding officer than anyone else. His penchant for smiling even when conditions went to the crapper was the major reason why Mac noticed him in the first place. Mac thought Jon was a fucking crazy guy, and Jon was absolutely fine with that. Years later, having travelled to a ton of countries across the world, slept with all the hot local chicks and shot a terrorist or ninety, they were also inseparable friends. After being honourably discharged, they joined New York's finest and became partners in crime fighting.

Jon gradually smiled less and less as the years went by. Mac remembered the case that was the beginning of the end for his friend. A father lost it one rainy night after gambling away all the family money, and in a fit of despair, slaughtered his wife and three children before killing himself. There was so much blood it covered entire walls of the apartment where the murders happened. Mac remembered the anguish in Jon's eyes too; seeing blood spilled from dying soldiers during warfare was one thing, seeing blood spilled from the ruptured bodies of little ones no older than six was something else completely. Mac had nightmares for weeks after the case was closed. At least, he had his wife Claire to soothe him in her loving arms whenever he woke up screaming at the horrors in his mind. Jon had no one.

During the fleeting years there were partners in the NYPD, Mac had sometimes speculated on why Jon'd insisted on going into the homicide department, but never went beyond that. Part of him was afraid to learn whether Jon had developed a predilection for looking at grisly, bloody scenes or missed their Marine days where slaying the enemy with a bullet to the head was part of their everyday job. Part of him was fearful of discovering he might be in the same shoes.

Then, Jon abruptly quit, joining the FBI. Mac walked his own way and delved into forensics and crime scene investigation, becoming both detective and CSI. Over time, communication between them became sparse, but their friendship hardly waned. Jon had been there to enfold him in solid arms and narrate all their fond memories of Claire in the first heartrending months, after he watched her die live on television as the plane crashed into the remaining Tower.

All this time, they had been friends, comrades in arms, even soul mates to a certain extent.

Today was perhaps another story.

"I'm guessing this isn't a social call." Mac shut the glass door to his office, giving them both privacy to talk.

Jon smirked mirthlessly. "Don't play dumb, Maclaren. Ya know why I'm here."

Mac dumped a folder or two onto the table before him, lips a thin line of stiffness. "All I know is, the FBI's blocked access to the identity information of a victim in one of my cases." Mac sat down in his chair, looking hard at the AD on the opposite side of the table. "And I need to know that information. I need to find out who the murderer is because whatever he or she left behind on the victim nearly killed one of my _own_."

Jon simply stared at him.

"Here's the story. We find a naked body covered in an unidentifiable substance. The ME is not only unable to figure out the cause of death, the victim's gender becomes _questionable_ after autopsy is done for further investigation. Oh -" - Mac waved one hand in a circular motion - "Let's not forget the very unknown substance slathered all over the victim somehow _exploded_ while one of my CSIs was studying it. And _nearly killed him_." Mac slammed his hand down onto the table, lips downturned in a palpable scowl.

"The way I see it, Jon, I think I deserve some _answers_, don't you think?" Mac's hazel eyes were ablaze.

"Nope. This case is now outta your jurisdiction." Jon's eyes were colder and more distant than Mac had ever seen them. "I'm here for all the material related to it. Research, physical evidence, autopsy reports, the works. And yeah, the _body _too."

"_What?_"

The hulk of a man exhaled. "Ya heard me, Maclaren. _Everything_. Order came directly from the _top_." Jon took out a piece of paper from inside his macintosh and tossed it into Mac's face. "And this ain't a _request_."

Glancing over it, Mac was at a loss for words.

"This is _insane!_"

Stella stormed into Mac's office, teeth bared in an angry rictus and figurative claws out for a kill. "This is _INSANE! MAC! _They're taking all our work and evidence on the investigation into the explosion! And our _homicide case!_" Stella spied her first victim.

"_You! _What the _HELL_ do you think you're _doing!_"Only a woman like Stella would have the guts to yell at someone like AD Turgis. "Your _men_ just _compromised_ all our hard work!"

"Stella -"

Stella was in full rage mode, which didn't seem to upset Jon in the slightest. Mac couldn't believe it, but his former partner was genuinely _smiling_ at her while Stella vented her frustration at him.

"_Stella!_"

His Greek CSI partner finally clamped her mouth shut.

"_We have no choice_." Mac saw the displeasure in her striking green eyes and knew _exactly_ how she felt. Stella glared intensely at Jon for five whole seconds before stomping away, flinging his office door so hard he half-expected it to break. A few lab technicians who'd come out to see what the commotion was about wisely stepped out of her way.

Jon whistled, watching Stella's retreating back. "_Whoa_. Now _that_'s a _woman_." Jon turned back towards him and was instantly back to his remote self. "Look, ya know how it is. I'm just doin' my job here."

Mac sighed and rubbed at his temple. "Jon, what the _fuck_ is going on here?"

For the first time since Jon popped up at the labs, his grey eyes were filled with empathy. All of a sudden, Mac was looking at his old friend as he really knew him once more. "Need-to-know basis, buddy. I can't tell ya _anythin'_. I'm sayin' this to ya as a friend, _stop all your investigations into this case and move on_. A'ight?"

Mac kept his lips pursed. One of the FBI agents appeared at the scene, nodding at Jon. Jon took this as a signal and got up from his seat.

"It ain't worth it to _chase_ this, ya hear me?" Jon bent over the table, thrust himself into Mac's personal space and stared Mac straight in the eyes. "_The vultures are circling the dead_."

With that, AD Turgis trudged out of his office, followed by the four FBI agents who had bags or boxes in their grasp. Mac sat at his table, still hearing Jon's last statement in his head, lost in a time when he was still in the Marines with his friend. 'The vultures are circling the dead' had been one of the codes they'd used between them whenever communication was jeopardized in any way.

His former partner was warning Mac he and his entire lab were now under scrutiny by the higher-ups in power. A throbbing vein in his temple marked the onset of a severe migraine. He never imagined he would become embroiled in some secret government _conspiracy_, of all the damn things. Mac sighed again.

In any case, Danny was okay now and would be back to work in mere days.

Right?


	8. Chapter 8

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual … add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 8**

Flack awoke to the resounding yowl of a cat somewhere outside.

He blinked twice, rubbed at his eyes and promptly let out a powerful sneeze or two. Sniffling moistly, he wriggled out from under the cream-colored afghan wrap Danny always spread across the back of his couch, wrinkling his nose. His mouth agape in a yawn, he stretched his long, lean body on the couch. He looked at the antique clock hanging on the wall next to the bookshelf. Nine in the morning on a _Sunday_. _Stupid cat_. He staggered to the semi-open window facing the street, feeling the early morning draft caress his face and hair before pulling it shut.

Coffee. He needed coffee. Now _where _did Danny keep the coffee?

Flack stumbled into the small kitchen, scratching his chest. The white ceramic tiles beneath his bare feet were chilly and sent shudders up his back. The next time he crashed at Danny's, he was gonna bring over his fluffy slippers, and he didn't give a shit if Danny laughed his ass off at him because of them. He growled deep in his throat at the lack of any coffee in the kitchen cupboards. No coffee meant a Flack in a bad mood. He made a sardonic face at the millions of tea packets instead. Only _sissies_ drank tea like that.

Okay, sure, _Danny_ drank tea, but he wasn't a sissy. He was in an exclusive class of his own. Where the hell _was_ that lazy ass? Flack yelled his name, demanding to know whether there was any coffee in the place. Then he recalled Danny _didn't_ drink coffee.

_Damnit_.

Flack plodded back out into the living area, intent on bursting into Danny's bedroom and hopping on the guy if that's what it took to get him up. Half-way there, his foot suddenly snagged on something heavy on the floor, and he barely caught himself from flattening his face on the wooden floor. What the -

It was the rubbish bin. Crammed with empty Chinese takeout cartons. And broken glass shards. Flack gaped at the blood stains on some of them.

Holy shit. _Danny_.

The whole of last night came back to him like a kick in the teeth six ways to kingdom come.

The vision of sensual, full DD-cup breasts on his best friend's chest woke him up quicker than all the caffeine in the world could.

Flack grimaced a little as the bedroom door creaked open. He was also starting to remember how close he got his head smashed apart by a sailing flower pot hurled by a very furious Danny. He proverbially slapped himself for shouting like he did earlier. He _so_ did not need another flower pot nearly breaking his skull this early in the day.

Danny was still sound asleep, lying on his back with one arm bent over his head and the other partially hanging over the edge of the bed. The curtains of the windows to the left of the bed were half-closed. Vivid sunlight poured through the gap in between and onto Danny from the waist down, saturating the resting man in bright colours on the bottom half while leaving his upper body in the shadows. Right then and there, Flack had his very first urge to pick up a brush and paint what his eyes were drinking in. Or if he had a camera like his CSI pals carried around so often, he'd capture this moment and keep it in his wallet always.

Flack's brain was so fuddled without his daily dose of caffeine, it was over ten minutes of just slouching in the doorway staring with glossy blue eyes before he noticed Danny's hair. It had grown _at least _another two inches longer. He wrapped one hand around his mouth when the manic vision of Danny as Rapunzel screaming for a Knight in Shining Armour suddenly popped into mind. Fuck, that shouldn't be as amusing as he believed it was. Danny's face showed no beard shadow or any growth of facial hair at all. Flack never realized how much of a difference Danny's goatee and facial stubble made to his face until it was gone. Flack kinda liked it. And was it his imagination or were Danny's _eyelashes_ longer too?

Danny had taken off the CSI coat sometime in the night, and without it, Flack had the ideal view of the drastic physical transformation to his friend's body. Upon second thought, drastic was a rather strong word to use. Flack thought the word _pants-tenting _was more appropriate. He figured his judgement of those recent … add-ons would change with the dawn. He was dead wrong. If his best friend wasn't a man, Flack would probably _propose_ to him. The right band of the black tank top had slipped downwards over Danny's shoulders, partly hiding the tribal-like, round tattoo on the upper arm. The bottom of the tank top was twisted around the shorter man's body awkwardly, baring the undersides of the DD-sized breasts.

Huh, they were totally _real_. And Danny wasn't wearing a bra. He mulled over how they were gonna walk into a lingerie store to buy some bras. All he could think of was Danny trying one on and posing in front of a mirror, asking petulantly, "Don, do these make my _boobs_ look _big_?" He sniggered. He felt another spasm of maniacal laughter coming on and literally slapped himself in the face this time. Damnit, Flack, he thought to himself, what the fuck's wrong with ya?

Flack sneaked across to the bed, sitting at Danny's feet. He itched terribly to pull them into his lap and tickle the hell outta them. _Geez_. This was what happened when Don Flack, Jr. didn't get his coffee fix. He brushed his hands through his cropped hair in agitation. He felt so disoriented, like how Tom Hanks was in that movie where he got stranded on an island and made a friggin' _volleyball_ his only friend. He loathed feeling like this, powerless to make a difference in a situation that was out of his control.

Danny moaned, then shifted onto his right side, away from the sunlight. Whoa, major cleavage going on _there._ Flack formed his decision and brought his hand down onto Danny's ankle to wake him up.

A loud series of knocks at Danny's apartment door immobilized him.

Flack immediately shifted into detective mode, all senses razor-sharp and heightened. He was highly doubtful Danny was anticipating visitors, not in the shape he was in. He creeped towards the main door on the flat sides of his feet, something he learnt from his dad in advancing stealthily and silently on perps. Instinct forewarned him whoever was on the other side were _not_ freakishly friendly salespeople. He wished he had his gun. He peeked through the peephole in the door.

Two men in pricey, custom-made suits and coats hung around on the opposite side of the door, one rocking back and forth on his heels and the other stepping forward to knock on the door once more. If Flack didn't know better, they looked like the _Feds_. His face contorted into his patented scowl. He and his dad might disagree on many issues, but they had this outlook in common: New York's finest and Feds just didn't mix well.

What the hell did the _FBI_ want with Danny anyway?

Flack waited until the FBI agent was leaning forward and a second away from touching the door, then yanked the door wide open. He smirked inwardly at the guy's clumsy attempt to straighten himself before he planted his face on the yucky hallway tiles. Oh yeah, that set Flack right back on course to being his usual, asshole self.

"_Whaddayawant?_" Flack inflated his chest and gave them his fiercest glare, blocking the doorway with his bulk.

The one who tripped glared in return, whipping out his wallet to display his FBI identification and badge. "I'm Agent Summers, and this is Agent Alvarez -" - he pointed at the other guy who was studying Flack - "We'd like to talk with Detective Danny Messer."

"Why?"

"We just need to ask him some questions in regards to the explosion that occurred at his workplace." Agent Summers continued to glare at him, enticing Flack to take a step forward into the agent's personal space.

"Detective Messer's already answered all the necessary questions 'bout it." Flack's tone was low and nonchalant, but something in his blue eyes compelled Agent Summers to unconsciously tilt back a bit. "If you want his whole statement, go look for his boss, Detective Mac Taylor."

"We'd like to _talk_ to _him_."

Flack's eyes narrowed. Something smelled awfully fishy here.

"He's _sleeping_." This dumbass was getting on Flack's nerves. "And as I _said_, Detective Mac Taylor's the guy you should be lookin' for."

"And who might _you_ be?" Ah, the quiet one knew how to talk after all.

"Detective Don Flack. Homicide." Flack's lips curved in a parody of a smile. "You wanna get in, you get a _warrant_."

Agent Summers with his overly-gelled, slicked hair apparently had a really short fuse. He jabbed roughly at Flack's sternum. "_Get out of the way_, detective, or -"

" … Don? What's going on?"

Damn, Danny was awake.

Flack craned his head to the side, staying where he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny a few feet away, swathed in a thick, dark blue robe and dreamily rubbing at his eyes. His hair was mussed, and strands of it dangled over his high forehead. The robe was so thick Flack could hardly tell anything was out of the ordinary with his friend's physique. Flack couldn't help but think Danny looked like a little boy who'd woken up to have some cookies and milk.

"It's okay, Danny. No big deal. These _bozos_ were just leavin' anyway."

Flack yelled, "Hey!" when Agent Summers shouldered his way past into the apartment. Ohh, Flack was going to throttle the guy so bad …

"Detective Messer. Sorry to disturb you at this time." Agent Alvarez was turning out to be the polite one too, but Flack was stuck in a nasty mood now.

"Like fuck ya are," the lanky detective muttered under his breath. He shoved on Agent Summers' shoulder, going up to Danny and instinctively placing a hand on the other detective's arm. "Danny, I got a bad feelin' 'bout these guys. Their IDs look authentic, but somethin' ain't right," he said in a muted voice. "Ya don't have to tell them anythin'."

Danny was uncannily composed. "'S okay. Lemme talk to them."

Flack was back at that weird place where he felt like a lost child searching for his missing teddy. He was always the rock, the one who kept Danny on his feet when the waves got too powerful and threatened to sweep him away. Not the other way around.

Agent Summers was now formally The Disturbing Ass of a Fed Who Was Obsessed With Staring at Danny. The FBI agent literally eyeballed his friend from head to toe twice over, like he was looking for some clue or sign that Flack wasn't aware of. Or maybe he _was_. _Shit_, what if these Feds knew about Danny's transformation and was here to haul him away to some underground laboratory to be tested as their _DD-boobed guinea pig_? The mere thought of Danny trapped in some padded room while mad scientists cut him up caused him to see nothing but red.

Agent Alvarez elbowed his fellow agent in the ribs. Agent Summers coughed and fiddled with his ghastly polka-dot tie.

"As I had mentioned to _Detective Flack_," The agent uttered Flack's name like it belonged to a demon, "I'd like to ask you some questions about the explosion that happened last week."

Danny crossed his arms in front of him. "I already made an official statement on the incident to my superior, Detective Mac Taylor. He has my testimony which includes all the details."

Yeah, _that's_ my boy, Flack thought.

There was a discomfited silence. Agent Alvarez came to the rescue of his colleague again, with a glib, "Very well, we'll obtain it from him. However, there's just one thing I'd like to know." Agent Alvarez's face was a professional mask. "How have you been since the incident?"

One end of Danny's lips arched upwards. "I've been better. You wanna know what it's really like to experience an explosion at point blank range, I'm sure you smart FBI people can figure that out on your own."

Agent Summers visibly bristled, but Agent Alvarez smiled sincerely. "We've been erroneous time and again, but you must admit the NYPD has made mistakes of its own as well."

"Touché."

Wow. Flack had _never_ seen Danny this unruffled ever.

"Well, thank you for your time. My apologies if we were … interrupting you both." Agent Alvarez sent both Danny and Flack a meaningful look before striding out of the apartment. Agent Summers sneered at Flack, and mumbled a derogatory comment.

"Couple a' _fags_. Figures."

If Flack was seeing red earlier, his vision was now the colour of dark blood. He was already choking the greasy bastard to death in his mind, but a firm hand on his wrist was stopping him.

"He ain't worth the trouble, Don. Let it go." Danny's blue eyes were mesmerizing in the sunlight.

Flack slammed the apartment door aggressively, breathing heavy with suppressed anger. Okay, he needed to sit down before he did something he was gonna regret for a long time. He collapsed onto one of the black-and-steel stools at the kitchen counter, pinching the bridge of his patrician nose. He. Needed. Coffee.

The sounds of Danny brewing tea resonated in the quiet wake of the FBI agents' surprise visit. Flack was pleasantly surprised at the mug of steaming hot coffee that materialized in front of his face. He glanced up to see Danny smiling.

"I keep the coffee behind the tea boxes. Know you hate tea."

Flack suddenly felt ashamed of his behavior for the past hour or so. "Thanks, buddy."

Danny sat on another stool next to him, sipping fragrant tea out of a gigantic white cup. "That was interestin'. Ya think the Feds have somethin' to do with what happened to me?"

Flack snarled. "I'll bet a million bucks on it." Looking at Danny in profile, the tall detective was freaked by how Danny was _not_ freaking out. Danny was _the_ drama queen, for crying out loud. He was the only guy Flack knew who could make a cold plate of lasagne sound like the greatest crime in the history of the world via his whining alone. His head told him it was only a matter of time before the meltdown happened.

Both of them turned their heads in the direction of the couch when Flack's mobile phone rang, then towards each other. They gazed wordlessly at each other for a moment, then Flack paced over to pick it up.

"It's _Mac_."

Danny perked up in his seat. Flack pressed a button and placed the phone to his ear.

"Flack … Yeah, I'm here with him … Okay." Flack's expression was a contradictory mix of apprehension and relief. "He's comin' over. _Now_."


	9. Chapter 9

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ¼ add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Hi there! Thank you for reading my story. I appreciate the kind reviews. I know this isn't the usual fanfare, but as Robert Frost once said, it's always more wonderful to take the road less travelled. If I've traumatized anyone with this story, I didn't intend to. Really!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 9**

Mac knew his off day was going to be cut short the minute his mobile phone rang that early in the morning. He paused, his red mug of coffee nearly touching his lips. The only person he could think of who'd call him at this time was Stella.

And _only_ if it was an emergency.

Mac answered the call after the ring tone played for three seconds.

"Taylor."

Silence.

"Hello? Who is this?"

More silence. Mac was certain there was someone at the other end of the line.

"The cobra is invading the eagle's nest." The voice was distorted into a robotic, indistinct one, so Mac could hardly tell whether it was a man or woman. Before he said anything in reply, the line disengaged. Mac frowned.

_What the hell kind of game was Jon playing at?_

He could merely surmise it had been Jon, but his gut instinct told him he was most likely right. That cryptic statement was another code he and his former fellow Marine used during their stint in the service. Hearing it had caused the hair on his neck to stand on end.

Mac reminisced of the one time Jon'd said that to him. They were assigned as part of a team to protect an undercover mole who'd been exposed in Iraq. It had started out like any other day, except it ended with an exploding car bomb, over thirty-four people wounded and one very dead informant with three-quarters of his head crushed to bloody pulp. The simple reason the whole fiasco never got into the news was because their assignment had been top secret. And the mole's mission had been to infiltrate the Al-Qaeda sect to gather information on possible future terrorist attacks on American soil.

If that car bomb hadn't gone off at that moment and killed that informant, would they have eventually learnt about the September 11th terrorist strike?

Would his beloved Claire still be alive today?

A part of Mac deep inside ached like it was crushed in a vice-like grip. It didn't matter if he took off his wedding ring or not. There would always be one around his heart as long as he could feel and remember her voice, her touch, her whispers as she told him she loved him. The way she kissed him goodbye on the morning of the last day he saw her alive. If he'd known the fate awaiting her, he would have done everything in his power to make her stay. If he ...

If. The cruellest word in the dictionary of Man's tenuous existence.

His cold coffee was left forgotten on his kitchen table as he called his most trustworthy partner since Jon Turgis left the NYPD to join the Feds.

"Mac?" He heard the rustle of sheets. "Is everything alright?" Stella sounded like she'd just woken up, and just the slightest bit annoyed. He didn't blame her; today was her first break in weeks of continuous investigation in various homicide cases, as well as the explosion at the labs.

"Stella, have you heard from Danny at all in the last few days?" Acute and sudden urgency made him brisk.

"No, I haven't." Stella was wide awake now. "But Flack's been updating me on his condition. Last time he called was a couple of days ago, after he brought Danny back to his apartment. He was _fine_." When Mac didn't answer, she said, "Mac, what's wrong?"

"I received a call a few minutes ago ... I think Danny's in trouble."

"_What?_" Mac heard Stella throwing off her blankets and getting out of bed. "What do you mean? What did the caller _say_?"

"You'll just have to trust me. I have to get to Danny's now."

More noises reached Mac's ear through the connection; Stella was opening her cupboard and changing clothes. "You mean _we_."

Mac couldn't help but smile. "Of course, we."

"Okay, I'll meet you there."

Mac concurred, then dialled Danny's mobile phone number for his next call. His stomach was turning more and more sour with every droning beep on the line. After the tenth beep, he disconnected the call and phoned the next guy he knew who'd know what was going on with his protégé.

"Flack."

"Flack, are you there with Danny now?" Mac donned his coat and picked up his car keys.

"Yeah, I'm here with him." There was an almost hostile quality to Flack's voice, thickening the young detective's accent. Something disconcerting had occurred prior to his call. Mac was pretty damn sure now the message was about Danny. He was only somewhat reassured that Flack was there with him. What if the threat hadn't surfaced yet?

"Good. Stay with him. I'm coming over right now." Mac didn't wait for a reply.

He was going to get his answers in person, even if it meant driving like a mad man on the streets of New York on a quiet Sunday morning.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Stella was the first to arrive at Danny's apartment.

She rapped her knuckles on the black door twice. From inside, heavy footsteps gradually grew louder until they halted behind the door. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Flack, dressed in a sleeveless black jersey and dark orange track pants with white stripes on the sides. His feet were bare, and his hair was tousled. Looks like she wasn't the only one who got woken up too early on a Sunday morning.

"Hey." Stella smiled at him, noticing how his brows were lowered in a slight scowl. "Is everything okay? Where's Danny?"

"Stella." Flack looked surprised for a minute, then it dawned on him. "Mac called ya, right?"

Stella raised an eyebrow as Flack stuck his head out and checked both sides of the hallway before looking back at her.

"Did you see any Feds around on your way up here?"

Stella's green eyes widened at the question. "_Feds_? They were _here_?"

Flack took her wrist and carted her inside the apartment, hurriedly closing the door behind them.

"Yeah, two a' them. They came lookin' for Danny." Flack spoke softly, putting one finger to his puckered lips in a, "Shh!" when Stella began to say something in her usual volume. "Sorry. Danny's sleepin' again."

"Again?" Stella whispered. "What do you mean? And what did the FBI want with Danny?"

Flack led her to the kitchen, where a half-full mug of coffee and an empty giant, white cup were left in the sink. Flack gestured at her with a clean mug from the cupboard, and she said, "Coffee, please, if there's any left." Flack smirked and poured her some from a medium stainless steel kettle. She nodded in thanks, closing her eyes as the hot coffee flowed down her throat. It was good.

"The Feds claimed they wanted to ask Danny some questions 'bout the explosion, but I could tell it was bullshit. I think they were here to check Danny out in person."

Stella thought back to the day before when the FBI paid a visit to the CSI headquarters. They had something _big_ to hide, alright. "Flack, the FBI came to the labs on Friday. They took everything on the explosion and our homicide case. _Everything_."

Flack's expression was indescribable. "What the _fuck_ do you mean _they took everything!_"His hands flailed in the air; Stella was secretly grateful Flack'd put down the kettle. "What, the _evidence_? The-the _body_ -"

"Yeah. Everything." Stella bit her lip.

Flack stood like a statue in the middle of the tiny kitchen, face utterly vacant. "Excuse me." He shuffled out towards the bathroom opposite the kitchen, and shut himself in. There was dead silence.

"MOTHERFUCKER _SONSOFBITCHEEEEEEESSSS!_"

Stella jumped at the enraged scream and the subsequent curses from inside the bathroom. A loud crash, followed by the sounds of something wooden being punched or kicked really hard. Then a big thump like something heavy sinking down. A grand mal like this was something she expected from Danny, not _Flack_. After nearly five minutes, he came out and ambled back calmly to the kitchen. Flack's face was as blank as ever, and the only clue Stella had of what he'd done was from the swelling contusions on his knuckles. They were going to hurt _a lot_.

"This is bad. This is really bad." Flack was behaving like he was back at the hospital right after Danny was released from the ER into the ward. "Danny's gonna go _ballistic_. This is bad."

Stella gripped his upper arms and shook him enough to almost jerk him off his feet. "Flack, _snap out of it_." She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. "It's going to be _okay_. Tell me what's bad."

Flack stared uncomprehendingly at her. "Danny. You guys need the evidence and your CSI research and stuff to _help_ him."

Stella felt a cold stone settle in the pit of her belly. "What do you mean? What's _happened_ to Danny?"

" ... You-you gotta see it for yourself."

They headed for the bedroom, its door slightly ajar. She gazed questioningly at Flack when she set eyes on the rubbish bin filled with the broken glass shards, but he just sucked in his lips and said nothing.

"Look, just ... just _promise_ me you won't scream, okay?" Flack looked ... _terrified_.

"Believe me, I've been a CSI for a _long _time. There's nothing that can scare me. _Really_." She attempted to sound soothing.

Flack's giggle had a hysterical edge to it. "Oh man ... ohh, _thiiiis_ is somethin' different. _I_ screamed my head off when I saw them for the first time."

_Them?_

"Okay, just ... let me see Danny."

Flack huffed, blinked then stretched an arm towards the door. "Okayokay. _Okay_. If he's awake, don't-don't say _boob job_, a'right?"

Stella was still trying to understand what the significance of the phrase 'boob job' was in their current situation as the bedroom door was pushed open.

Then she saw Danny dozing on the bed on his side, facing the door.

And her scream was so shrill it woke up everyone on the same floor.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Mac arrived at Danny's apartment about a half hour after Stella.

He was doing his best to keep himself from thundering up the staircases and kicking down Danny's door. He'd never been the kind of guy who lost it and took it out on whatever was around him, not even whenever things went downhill during his Marine and early NYPD years. That nearly changed when he hired on one rebellious young CSI into his fold. Danny was probably the only human being in the world who could stir him up into a hissy fit within minutes.

At that thought, he was also doing his best to deny that he actually _enjoyed _it to a certain extent whenever Danny stood his ground and defied him. Maybe his old friend Jon was right. Maybe he really _did_ have some dominant-submissive kink he didn't realize he had. So why didn't that concept scare him as much as it should?

Mac shoved these contemplations into a box in his mind, putting them away for another time. Right now, he had a more imperative matter to confront.

As he advanced towards Danny's apartment door, he noticed the apartment door next to it was open. An old lady in a white nightgown and pink robe was peeking out, looking anxious and fiddling with her cane.

"Ma'am, is everything alright?" He took out his golden badge and showed it to her.

She immediately relaxed. "Ohh, you must be one of Daniel's associates!"

Mac gave her a courteous smile. "Yes, I'm his ... boss."

"Ahh." She toddled unsteadily on her cane up to him. "I was sleeping soundly until I heard a loud scream coming from Daniel's apartment. It sounded like a woman."

Mac was instantaneously on alert. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll check it out."

"Thank you so much. I do hope Daniel is alright, I haven't seen him for so long. But Donny is here with him, so I'm not so worried. You're very sweet, just like them both." She went back into her apartment, babbling on about thin walls and chocolate cookies.

It took a moment or two for Mac to realize the Donny she was referring to was Flack. Then the next realization was that the woman who screamed was probably Stella.

He clutched the handle of his gun hanging from his waist, closing his other hand on the knob of Danny's apartment door. His grip on the weapon tightened when the unlocked door opened with a creak. He cautiously stepped in, pulling out his gun and scanning the entire place. When he moved into the vicinity of the living area, Mac felt all the tension leave his body at the sight of Flack and Stella sitting quietly side by side on the couch.

"Stella?" Mac returned the gun to its holster.

It was Flack who turned to look at him. "Hey, Mac."

Something just felt _off_ to Mac.

"Where's Danny? Is he okay?" Mac went to stand before the two detectives, and saw what remained of the coffee table there. "What happened to _that_?"

"Danny, uhm. Danny smashed it. With his fist." Flack looked like a child who'd gotten caught doing something bad. Stella, on the other hand, looked like someone just socked her in the face and was still reeling from the impact.

Mac gaped at them.

"I wrapped his hand up and all that. He's okay." Flack suddenly sniggered nervously. "He's ... okay. As okay as somebody in _his_ condition could be."

"Stella, Danny's elderly neighbour next door said she heard a woman scream. Was that you?"

Stella sat stock still, her eyes wide and glassy. "Yeah."

Okay, Mac was wrong. Danny _wasn't_ the only one who could get him into a hissy fit in minutes.

"_Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on here?_"

Both Flack and Stella merely stared at him like little children being scolded by their daddy. Then Flack said, "Like I told Stella ... ya just gotta see it for yourself."

And Stella added, "It's not fair. They're bigger than _mine_."

That _did it_. Whatever shell-shocked his two detectives was something he was going to have to deal with _himself_. He stormed up to Danny's bedroom, ignoring the thwacking sounds of Flack leaping off the couch and chasing after him.

"Wait, _Mac! Wait!_"

Mac slammed open the door, prepared for the worst.

He certainly wasn't expecting to see a short-haired woman curled up in a semi-fetal position on Danny's bed, in a deep sleep. Her legs, hips and waist were under the dark blue blanket. Her face was partly hidden under a forearm, but the voluptuous breasts under her black tank top told Mac more than enough about the gender of the person.

He faced Flack, who was standing behind him and fidgeting agitatedly with his hands, a funny expression on his pink face. "Who is she? And where's Danny?"

Flack tried to smile, and ended up looking like he was about to be strapped into a straightjacket and thrown into the back of one of those transport vans with bars on the windows. "That ... t-that _is _Danny."

"Flack. That's a _woman_."

"No. That's _Danny_."

Mac stared at the younger detective. "Flack, you do realize Danny _isn't_ a woman and _doesn't _have breasts, don't you?"

Flack made another crumpled face. "Y-yeah, but that's Danny. _With_ breasts."

Mac stared some more at Flack.

Crap. _He wasn't kidding_.

Mac quietly drew near the bed, his heartbeat increasing with each footstep. This was impossible. Illogical. _Men_ didn't grow DD-sized breasts _period_. Mac touched the person lying down on the shoulder. If this was some April Fool's joke at his expense, he was going to kill all three of them. _Very slowly_.

The person moaned softly, and shifted on the bed. The forearm moved away.

" ... Mac?"

Mac stared into familiar lidded, blue eyes. It wasn't a woman. It was really Danny. With the hottest damn boobs he'd ever laid eyes on in his entire existence. And they were _genuine_.

Mac's brain experienced total shutdown.

"_Mac?_"

Danny saying his name was the last thing he heard right before he toppled backwards and fainted dead away.


	10. Chapter 10

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 10**

Mac was floating peacefully in a very happy place.

He could tell he was lying down on the floor, on top of some thick rug that made him muse about hot Arabian nights and scantily clad belly dancers with curvy, full bodies. He smiled languorously, eyes closed. Ahh, he could feel one of them lying on top of him right now, her hands wrapped around his face and neck. He thought it was a little odd she was joggling his head like she wanted him to wake up instead of caressing him. Perhaps this was some extraordinary, enigmatic Arabian massage he didn't know about.

"Mac? Can you _hear_ me?"

Huh. He never knew Arabian belly dancers had thick New York accents like _that_.

Or had a deep voice like a _man's_.

"Mac." He felt a mild slap on his right cheek. "C'mon, _open yer eyes_."

Mac eventually obeyed, peering at the low-voiced, comfy form hovering above him from beneath half-closed eyelids. Hmmm, wherever he was, this place sure had unique belly dancers. Those were really pretty sapphire eyes. He didn't mind the short, spiky hair either. But since when the heck did Arabian belly dancers wear _tank tops_?

"I'm going to go get a cup of water. You guys stay here with him." Gee, the other belly dancers had New York accents too. At least _this_ one sounded much more like a woman.

"C'mon_c'mon_, Mac, _gedduuup_." The dancer on top of him slapped his face a few more times.

He growled. Ohh, so _that's_ how she liked to play, eh? His open hands lunged upwards and made contact with the closest fleshy mounds he could take hold of. He grinned broadly, all teeth. Whoa, now _those_ were what he called _plentiful_.

"Ho. Ly. _Crap_." Wha, there was _another_ dancer? Nevermind that that one had an even deeper masculine voice than the one lying on top of him. Mac Taylor was a lucky, _lucky_ man tonight!

"Don, he's grab- he's _grabbin' my _-" A high-pitched squeal made him wince. A powerful, brain-boggling slap across his face made him wince even more. He reluctantly let go.

"Owow_oww_, stop hitting me!" Mac blocked the oncoming blows with his forearms, pushing with his feet to try to get away from the now infuriated belly dancer. "Stop it!"

The other one (and boy, was this one a _giant _of a woman) enveloped her arms around her upset co-dancer and forcibly pulled her off him. Mac collapsed back onto the floor, arms spread out, eyes still almost closed. He had enough. He was going to tell off Jon _big time _for dragging him to a place like this.

A door suddenly opened, and Mac heard a piercing, "_Incoooomiiiiiiiing!_"

_SPLOOOSSSH!_

As irritating as it felt, Mac had to confess the chilling sensation of having a whole cup of cold water splashed all over his face and chest sobered him up quick. After a minute or two of listening to the water drip off his hair and face, he sat upright and wiped off the rest of the water from his face.

Okay. Clearly, he was drunk. He would never _ever_ have done what he just did if he wasn't. Right, apologies. Then he was getting out of there like a bat out of hell. One last rub across his eyes, and he opened them.

_What the? _This was _no_ belly dancer bar in Saudi Arabia.

Mac was sitting on the wooden floor of a bedroom, surrounded by three other people who were staring at him with unanimous alarmed expressions. They weren't belly dancers, they were three regular people who were New Yorkers just like himself.

Well, maybe the one with the glorious pair of _massive_ breasts was more than regular.

The tall guy to his left, in a black sleeveless shirt and track pants, leaned over to the beautiful woman holding a cup in front of Mac and said, "Ya think he got some kinda _brain damage _when he fell over?"

Mac glanced to his right, grimacing in apology at the woman who was glaring with wet eyes at him. If that glare had the power to kill, he'd be vaporized _dust_ by now. He had to literally pinch himself excruciatingly to stop himself from staring at her chest. Those blue eyes seemed so familiar, as well as the distress in them.

_You shot wild, Danny. _

Mac gasped. The events of the morning rushed back into his mind, and he shivered as if he'd been doused with another cup of water. Oh _shit_. That was no _woman_.

"Oh. My. _God_. I-I thought … I thought I was back in Saudi Arabia, at-at that _bar _with all those _belly dancers _and-and …"

All three people simultaneously raised their eyebrows at his blurted admission.

"_Danny_, I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to do that …" Mac clasped Danny's forearm, and felt an unexplainable twinge of hurt at the other man's flinch. He was beginning to learn what Danny might have felt like that evening in his office at the former CSI headquarters, after he said all those damning words to the younger detective. Why did he say all those things about being advised against hiring Danny eventhough it wasn't necessary? His pride be damned. The twinge grew stronger when Danny wrapped his arms over his chest and perceptibly slanted away from him.

"It … it's okay. You were knocked out. Didn't know what you were doin' anyway." Danny couldn't look him in the eye, which only served to make him feel worse.

Flack and Stella looked at each other meaningfully. Stella cleared her throat.

"I'll go get a towel for you, Mac. Flack, do you mind brewing up some more coffee?"

"Right on it." Both of them got to their feet and quietly left the room, closing the door with a faint click.

The silence in the bedroom was deafening.

Mac ran a hand through his sodden hair. The last time he'd been in awkward circumstances like these was during his first date with Claire, after he accidentally spilled a glass of red cordial drink onto her ivory dress at a posh restaurant. But that was a different kind of awkward. This was the unsettling kind that caused goosebumps all over his body, the kind that made him want to flee as far away as possible.

Danny had drawn his knees up to his chest, arms on top of them, face hidden from view. Part of Mac's brain noted the younger man's new head of hair. Another scientific impossibility, as Danny'd been nearly bald mere days before due to the explosion at the labs. Mac became conscious of what a vulnerable and terrifying position Danny was in right now. If he woke up one day and discovered he'd grown a pair of DD-cup breasts … demolishing a single coffee table would have been the _least_ of what he would do. Taking an AK-47 and shooting wildly at everything in sight might have been more like it.

Mac spied a thick, blue robe situated on the queen-sized bed amidst the rumpled blanket and sheets. He pulled it over and enfolded Danny with it.

"Did … did I hurt you?"

Danny tugged the robe closer around his body, whispering a rasping thank you and then replied in a small voice, "That's one hell of a loaded question, Mac."

Mac perched himself beside the other man on the floor, leaning back onto the side of the bed. He took some time to think his words carefully.

"I know we never talked about things much after the subway shooting incident. And yes, I _was_ disappointed in you." Mac saw Danny's face screw up at that. "But not for the reasons you think." Mac twisted his body to face the younger CSI.

"I was disappointed … because you chose to _distrust _me, after all our years of working together." Danny's head snapped sideways at him. Those blue eyes were brimming. "You chose suspicion and resentment above our friendship. You chose to disobey me, _knowing_ that the decisions I made was all for helping you out, _not_ to trap you or simply to protect the integrity of the lab."

When Danny didn't say anything, Mac asked, "You _knew_ that, right?"

It took a long time before Danny answered him with a tiny shake of his head. Mac frowned in dismay.

"You mean, you really thought all I cared about was the _lab_? You thought I didn't _care_ what happened to you? "

Danny bowed his head, shielding his face from Mac. For the second time that week, Mac was at a loss for words. It was becoming unmistakable why Danny had been acting so uptight and restless around him all these months. Mac couldn't believe he'd been _this_ blind.

"Danny, I … we're part of a _team_. _Together_." Mac tentatively rested a hand on Danny's shoulder, exceedingly pleased that Danny didn't shy away this time. "We're … well, _family_, in a way. We look out for one another. And I, as the supervisor … I look out for everyone. Including _you_."

Danny rubbed one palm over his eyes, huddling in his robe and avoiding Mac's gaze. Mac waited patiently for a response.

"I'm sorry." Danny looked him straight in the eye as he said it.

Mac was stunned.

It was the first time since they met each other that Danny had ever apologized for _anything_.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass. I'm sorry I can never do anythin' right. I'm sorry I'm always causin' problems for you." Danny wiped away the wet tracks on his cheeks. "_Look_ a' me, Mac. If you were disappointed in me then, what would you think of me _now_? I've become a-a damn _freak_. I go back to work, the lab'll be the laughin' stock of the _city_. You might as well fire me now like Aiden and save everyone the trouble."

A spark of anger ignited inside Mac at that.

"_Did you hear a word I said_?" Mac saw apprehension develop in the other man's eyes. Mac held on to Danny's shoulders. "It _doesn't _matter whether problems crop up or not. They _always_ do. And it's _not_ always your fault. Danny, if you think I'd simply abandon you to the wolves at the first sign of conflict, you must think so _little_ of me."

Danny immediately shook his head violently in protest. "_No_, that's not true-"

"_No_? Then why can't you believe that I _care_ about your wellbeing? Why can't you believe I'm here _for_ you?"

Danny appeared stupefied. "I … I'm not worth it."

Mac sighed. So _this _was the real underlying issue.

"Okay. You listen to me now. _Listen_." Mac ascertained Danny was staring him in the eye and attentive before continuing. "When I hired you over five years ago, _yes_, there were people who advised me against hiring you, but I decided to do so anyway. Because I believe in _second chances_. I believe in looking beyond a person's past and mistakes and focusing on who the person is _today_. You understand?"

Danny nodded. Within the watery blue, hope was blossoming.

"I had a selection of over a _thousand_ prospective candidates for the CSI post. _One thousand_. And _I picked you_. Not only because you graduated at the top of your class, but because I _knew_ you were capable of being a valuable and accomplished CSI the minute I interviewed you. And guess what?" Mac smiled warmly. "You _are_."

Danny dipped his head shyly, but not before Mac caught a glimpse of an encouraged smile. "Wow. I dunno what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just do your best. Oh, and stop disobeying me so much."

Danny gazed at Mac coyly from beneath his eyelids. "And what if I don't wanna?"

There was a sudden electric charge to the air between them. All Mac could see was Danny, his face mere inches away from his. He never noticed how long Danny's eyelashes were, how the blue of his eyes reminded him of a sunny, cloudless morning sky. Or how lush Danny's pink lips looked when he pouted that way. Mac felt an uncontrollable shiver travel up his back to his neck, making him inhale sharply.

"If you don't … I might just put that _cane_ in my office to good use." Damn, where the hell did _that _come from?

Danny's mien turned strawberry red, eyes wide and mouth agape. A squeaky noise emitted from Danny's open mouth. For some reason even he didn't know, Mac was hit with the desire to dance around on the bed and sing that La Bamba song.

At _last_, he'd found a way to keep Danny in line!

The sound of someone coughing at the door broke the mood and jolted them out of their reverie. Still blushing hotly, Danny tied the robe more snugly around his body while Mac sat back and scratched at his neck, unknowingly smiling to himself.

Stella was at the door with a large colorful towel in hand. "Uhm, this was the only towel I found in the bathroom." She looked pointedly at both guys, as if she was searching for some clue about what they were discussing. Apparently, she got it; she grinned especially at Mac, chucking the towel at him. "You look like a drowned rat."

Mac caught the towel and idly dried his hair and dabbed at his damp clothes. He'd completely forgotten he was even soaked. He sensed Danny staring at him while he did so.

"Flack's done with the coffee and tea. You two come out when you're ready." Stella closed the door again.

"Hope you don't mind me using your towel." Mac wiped at his chest under his button-up shirt. Geez, how much water did Stella souse him with?

"Hm? No, it's fine. I got more than one towel anyway."

Mac smiled, folding the towel over his arm. "Okay then. Let's go have ourselves a drink, then we'll see what to do about you."

Danny smiled back. "Okay."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack nonchalantly ruffled Danny's hair as the CSI slept on the couch in the living area, his afghan wrap cozy around his shoulders as he lay on his side. Flack was worried about his friend falling asleep so much. It wasn't normal. Heck, _nothing_ since last night was normal.

"Did he sleep last night?" Stella sat on one of Danny's black-and-steel stools, holding a mug of coffee in hand. She was frowning in concern.

"Yeah. He's been sleepin' like this on and off since _Wednesday_, accordin' to what he told me." Flack was sitting on the edge of the couch, Danny's head partially on his thigh. "If I didn't come lookin' for him, he probably wouldn't have drunk or eaten a thing since then. Said he was exhausted all the time and felt pain in his chest."

Stella bit on her lower lip, toying with a button on her v-neck, long-sleeved top. "Well, I guess we all know the reason why now."

"Babies, particularly newborns, sleep a great deal in their first months of life." Flack and Stella looked at Mac. Mac was also sitting on a stool like Stella, his coat taken off and doubled over the back of the couch at Danny's feet. He looked handsome in a dark red shirt and black trousers. "They sleep to conserve energy for the rapid development of their bodies. It makes sense why Danny's sleeping so much. His body's been using up huge amounts of energy for the … extreme physical transformation."

"Now that I think about it, this also explains the condition of our DB. The blue substance we found all over the body must have been the catalyst for the similar physical changes. Hammerback may have been right about it being some radical cosmetic treatment we've yet to hear of."

Flack made a revolted face. "What the hell kinda crazy guy would wanna grow _giant breasts_?"

Stella smirked. "Well, if there was such a procedure where surgery wasn't necessary, I think there would be many transsexuals who'd be interested in it. As well as hundreds of _thousands_ of women all over the world who want bigger breasts."

Flack threw up his hands in the air. "Hey, I'm all for freedom of choice, but me? I'm a lover of _au naturelle _women, if ya know what I mean. I'd take small real boobs over Godzilla plastic watermelons any day."

Stella grinned. "Good for _you_."

"So, okay. This blue stuff is the thing that changed the DB and Danny." Flack instinctively retucked the afghan wrap around Danny when the sleeping detective moved onto his back on the couch. "And the Feds have taken all the evidence and research away. Can't go barging into their HQ without exposing Danny. Unless another body pops up with the same MO … we're at a dead end." Flack look beseechingly at the older detectives.

" … _Not _quite." Mac got off his stool and walked over to his coat, digging around in the inner pockets until he uncovered what he was looking for. He went back to his seat, passing Stella an opaque white container. Stella unscrewed the cap, her smooth face crinkling into a big smile.

"Mac. Have I told you lately I love you?"

"Yes, but I love hearing it anyway."

Stella laughed.

"Hey, _c'mon_. _Share_ it with everybody here." Flack smiled sideways hesitantly.

Stella stretched out the arm holding the container in his direction. Flack grinned like the Cheshire Cat at the neon-blue gooey matter glowing inside.

"Mac, you _bastard_." Flack laughed exuberantly. "_Hah_, the Feds didn't get everything after all!"

Stella rotated the cap back on and handed the container back to Mac, who patted it.

"I've been warned that the lab and all its activities are under heavy scrutiny now, so we'll have to be extra cautious from here on. Stella and I will handle investigation of the substance." Mac watched Danny napping, totally oblivious to the world. "Flack, I'll give you an address of one of my … hide-outs. I want you to pack Danny's things and bring him there as soon as possible. The Feds probably have this place staked out by now. Make sure you're not followed."

"Hey, you're talkin' to _Don Flack, Jr. _here. I eat dumbass Feds for breakfast." Flack paused. "What about Hawkes and Monroe? You gonna tell them about Danny? I don't think Danny'll want them or anybody else to know about this."

Mac pursed his lips. "The less who know this, the better. But if we need their help, we won't have much of a choice. We're a team. We look out for each other." He rolled the opaque container in his palm.

"And I'll be damned a _thousand times _over before I let the sonsofbitches who created this stuff get away with it."


	11. Chapter 11

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 11**

"_Fascinating_."

It figured Hawkes would say something like that.

"_Look_ at them. They look just like those … Mac, have you watched those Matrix movies?"

Mac's lips twisted into a semi-smirk. "Yes, I saw the first one, but the later two had too much CGI special effects to keep me interested."

Hawkes glanced meaningfully at him. "Wow. Mac Taylor actually _watches__movies_."

This time, Mac grinned. "Like I said, it's my job to know a little of everything. And by the way, I thought Queen Latifah was funny in Bringing Down the House."

Hawkes' eyebrows would have gone all the way up to his hairline if it was anatomically doable. "I'm _impressed_," he said lightheartedly, "You're not developing a _crush_ on her, are you, Mac?"

"Hey, Doc, move over, I wanna see."

Mac, Hawkes and Flack were clustered around a weighty high-magnification microscope in one of the windowless, white labs at CSI headquarters. Stella sat opposite them, leaning her chin on one hand on the table and observing the three men with an almost maternal expression. Mac had specifically chosen a closed-up lab to evade any spying eyes; they couldn't risk being exposed and lose the last evidence they had that could help alter Danny back to his original self.

"_Eewww_. They look just like those tentacly robot thingies in the Matrix movies." Flack's blue eyes widened even more as he gazed at what made up the neon-blue substance through the microscope. What appeared to be tiny, blue-white hexagons with feelers piled and scuttled all over each other like a hypnotizing swarm of aliens from another planet. "There're … _zillions_ of them."

"I think that's _exactly_ what they are."

Everyone faced Hawkes' direction.

"_Robots_. That's what they are."

Flack's brows met in a puzzled frown. "You mean, microscopic robots? As in … _nanotechnology_?"

"Yes! Microscopic robots the size of a _human body cell_! Isn't that amazing?" Hawkes' kind eyes were alit with excitement. "I've read some about nanotechnology. Did you know nanotechnologists have recently created alcohol- and hydrogen-powered artificial muscles that are a _hundred_ times stronger than natural muscles? They're able to do that many times greater work per cycle and even produce larger contractions than natural muscles at reduced strengths!"

"But what about _smart_ nanobots?" Mac tapped his fingers on the table surface. "Nanobots with highly developed _artificial intelligence_?"

Stella stood up, walking over to join the men. "Whoa, it's one thing to create artificial cells that're capable of basic functions. It's another to create _robots_ that small with _artificial intelligence_." Flack moved over to let her look at the sample on the microscope slide.

"Who knows how far nanotechnology has come along? But … hmmmm." Hawkes absentmindedly scratched his chin. "Nanotechnology with _superior artificial intelligence_? I'm not sure if that technically even _exists_ yet."

Mac appeared distant in contemplation. "If our speculations are correct, it's no wonder the FBI came as fast as they did and took everything away from us. Imagine the potential of such an advanced technology. In the wrong hands, it'd be _disastrous_."

"Mac. If this case is already taken out of our hands … why are we still investigating it?"

Stella instantly tensed at Hawkes' inquiry. Flack looked pointedly sideways at Mac.

Damn. Mac was hoping that question wouldn't pop up. He should've known better though. This was Sheldon Hawkes the Walking Encyclopedia he was speaking to, the guy who loves to know _everything_. Hawkes answered himself before Mac could reply.

"This doesn't have something to do with _Danny_ … does it?"

Mac sighed, rubbing his temple. How was going to break the news to the guy without freaking the daylights out of him?

"Uhm, Sheldon." Mac felt a headache looming. "Did you see the DB for my case? Before the FBI claimed it?"

Hawkes' facial expression said everything. "Let's just say … I was quite jealous of Hammerback being the ME for a while after I did."

Flack made an impish face.

"Okay. Uhm." Mac couldn't really look Hawkes in the eye. "Danny … uh. _Danny_ -" - Mac flailed his hands around - "Danny's become a … a _less curvy _version of it."

Stella slapped her hands over her face. Flack looked liked he was about to burst. Hawkes merely stared blankly at Mac.

Fine. Mac was going to go the straightforward way.

"Danny's grown DD-sized breasts. And lost most of his body hair." Mac didn't dare to ponder over at all whether Danny still had hair down _there_.

Hawkes' blank stare lengthened. "Danny's. Grown. Breasts. _DD-sized breasts_."

Mac coughed. "Uhm. Yes."

"And. He's lost. All his _hair_."

Mac cleared his throat loudly. "Uhh, not on his head, and … _uhm_. I-I'm not sure."

Hawkes made a confused face.

"Mac, is this some kind of a _joke_?" Then he suddenly grinned as if he understood. "Ohh, I _get_ it. Danny put you up to this, didn't he!"

Flack finally cracked and sniggered uncontrollably.

Mac felt like dissolving into the ground under his feet and disappearing there for a long, long time. "No, Hawkes. It's-it's not a joke. Believe me, I wish it was."

A part of Mac terribly wished he had his camera with him. It was extremely rare to see Hawkes looking like somebody had just grabbed him between the legs. Hard.

" … Y-you mean … Danny … re-really has … _giant breasts_?"

Flack keeled over, Stella smacking him on the back as he choked. Mac grimaced.

"Yes. We believe this blue substance we found on the DB was what caused the transformation. Danny came in direct contact with it during the explosion. I don't have any other explanation."

Stella got Flack to sit on a lab stool while Hawkes gradually reverted to his usual professional self, crossing his arms on his chest.

"I … I'm not sure what to say. Who would program nanobots to grow _gigantic boobs_?"

"That's what _I_ said." Flack was still red in the face, but he was breathing fine now. "Whoever the guy is, he must be one _fucked up _scientist." Flack considered his statement. "Or a _genius_."

"You know, what I'm interested in right now is why _your_ sample of the stuff hasn't _exploded_ yet." Stella lifted an eyebrow.

Mac startled inwardly, looking down at the closed, white container on the table. She had an _excellent_ point. In his mind, he backtracked to the day the explosion occurred, which was less than twelve hours after they were first called to investigate the nude corpse in the alley that night. Danny had clocked in early for his shift, and gone to one of the newer, less-used laboratories after Mac instructed him to study the blue matter. Danny was never the type to avoid other people. Mac presumed this had been yet another obvious sign of Danny's well-concealed emotional upheaval. Mac mentally noted this for future reference; he would have to further discuss that with Danny sometime soon.

Mac recalled the layout of the lab Danny worked in. In a way, he was thankful it'd been one of the less-used labs. In fact, it was so new, the only evidence lost had been the one Danny was asked to investigate. Still, IAB already had a field day interrogating everyone as much as they could anyway. If Mac didn't see Chief Hillborne ever again, it would still be too many times.

Mac's brows met in a concentrated glower. He idly handled the container in front of him, then studied his surroundings. Danny would have been transferring the gooey stuff onto a slide to study it under a microscope. He thought about the younger CSI, that morning in his maroon shirt, khakis and pristine lab coat, nimble fingers manipulating delicate lab equipment. His spectacles perched on his prominent nose as he squinted in the bright sunlight of the mor-

That was _it_.

"Mac?"

His two CSIs and one homicide detective were watching him avidly. Stella tilted her head at an angle, sculpted eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Sunlight." Mac smiled. "_Sunlight_."

Mac grabbed a thin spatula and marched over to the laboratory next door, white container in hand. Flack, Stella and Hawkes followed behind.

There were windows in this particular lab. Sunshine streamed in, bathing the empty room in a warm glow. Mac drew the plastic blinds over the windows, throwing the room into semi-darkness as he didn't turn on the lights. He went up to the table closest to the windows and shifted all the equipment on it to another table far off. He uncapped the container. Then, using the spatula, he scooped out a minute amount of the neon-blue goo and pasted it onto one corner of the bare table.

"_Get back_." Mac closed the container shut and motioned at them to move backward to a safe distance. Flack automatically held his long arms in a protective stance in front of Hawkes and Stella as he backed them nearly out of the room.

Mac wrenched the blinds open, and ran from the windows to be with the others.

For over three minutes, nothing happened.

Then, all four of them heard a strange bubbling noise emanating from the empty table. The blue substance was now shimmering blindingly, forcing them to shield their eyes and squint. They swiftly shuffled out the door.

_Pop_.

The table corner blasted apart with an earsplitting bang, sending the splintered table crashing to the floor and the separated leg flying straight at Mac's head. He ducked just in time, the leg smashing to pieces against the wall above him by the mighty force.

"_Mac!_" Stella was immediately at his side, running her hands through his hair and over his shoulders in alarm.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he reassured her. He got to his feet, wincing slightly at the pinch of some splinters in his shoulder. He'd get those out later. Mac brushed himself off and locked the lab door behind him. "The nanobots seem to be volatile in _sunlight_. Those on the DB didn't explode because it was discovered at _night_. My sample didn't explode until now because it's been kept in an opaque container all this time. Hammerback had samples in his fridge too, but since sunlight never reached them, they never exploded either. Danny's did because he had been working in an open lab during the day." Mac scowled. "He had a whole _beaker_ full of the stuff too. It's a miracle he wasn't killed."

"Least we know how the explosion happened now." Flack looked grim. "But where do we go from here? It's pretty obvious none of us know anythin' more 'bout these _nanobots_."

"If we even search for nanotechnologists and ask for their help, we'd be alerting the FBI at once." Hawkes looked as dour as Flack. "Where _is_ Danny? Is he safe?"

"He's fine. Flack got him to one of my safe hideaways." Mac glanced at Flack, who nodded in affirmation. "The Feds won't be looking for him there."

"He can't stay there forever, Mac," Stella said, full lips pressed together. "Sooner or later, he'll have to return to work. All the FBI have to do is _wait_."

"Then we'll figure out how to change him _before_ that happens," Mac answered resolutely. "He's got way too many unused off-days anyway. I can give him at least another week or so. That'll give us more time."

They fell silent, brooding over the dilemma. Flack's frustration was palpable on his face and in his big blue eyes.

"This fuckin' _stinks_," Flack snarled. "There's _got_ to be someone who can help Danny."

An image of a smiling goliath in Marine camouflage uniform materialized in Mac's thoughts.

Mac's hand curled into a steadfast fist.

"I know someone who _just_ might."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: This chapter's shorter than the last two ... but not to worry, Danny fans will _love_ the next chapter! That's all I can say without spoiling it.


	12. Chapter 12

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

** Chapter 12**

He loved his life. Once upon a very, very long time.

The last time Danny could honestly say he felt happy was when he went to a Mets game with his dad, over half of his lifetime ago. He didn't remember much of that day, except he laughed a lot, ate too many hotdogs and caught the home ball bare-handed, against all odds. Most of all, he remembered his dad's burly arm across his shoulders, his warm company as they eagerly watched the game together. How it seemed like time stood still while they whooped with joy at the ball he held and hugged. How it felt like they would stay together for all time.

It hurt him intolerably to even think about his father most times, but when the days grew too cold and the nights were overflowing with inescapable nightmares, that sole memory of love got him through like nothing else could. Reliving his dad's embrace was better than remembering the sensation of dark red liquid soaking his clothes, the painful scrapes on his knees as he knelt over his dad and cried into the unmoving chest.

Flack once asked him why he was never squicked out by any of the dead bodies he saw, even the horrific, stomach-churning ones. Danny didn't have the heart to tell him nothing could ever top the sight of the bloody mushiness inside his father's skull leaking out onto the worn pavement.

Happiness and love were words that no longer existed in Danny Messer's vocabulary the moment his father died in his arms.

Danny gulped down his sixth shot of tequila that night, banging the small glass cup onto the counter hard. He was going insane from boredom from being caged inside what Flack said was one of Mac's secret hideouts, an apartment in an indistinguishable, grey building located in a secluded area on the edge of Brooklyn. Danny didn't believe him at first, until he got inside the apartment and saw the grand interiors and array of weapons on display. Only Mac would hang two razor-sharp scimitars on the wall and deem it interior decoration. Being surrounded by so many things that radiated Mac also put him on an edge he couldn't shrug off.

So, against Mac's orders, here he was in some dim dump of a bar, drinking himself stupid and fighting off some of the repulsive patrons who assumed him having humongous breasts meant he was a slut looking to get molested and laid.

He needed to get drunk. _Fast_.

"Gimme _another_." He carelessly pushed the glass in the direction of the bartender, who was cleaning a beer mug with a green cloth. "Hell, just gimme the whole fuggin' _bottle_."

"Honey, you can't even _sit_ upright. You sure you want some more?" Gertrude. The bartender's name was Gertrude, Danny's alcohol-dazed brain informed him.

Danny let out one of his patented joyless cackles. "Trus' me, it ain't the alcohol makin' me feel like shit, fo' shure." He tugged at the lapels of his sport jacket in a self-conscious manner. It was totally ineffective in hiding his … busty assets. He initially wanted to wear his large CSI coat, and then realized it'd be instant career suicide should someone in his line of work recognize it, and him. Not to mention how much damage it'd do to the lab. And _Mac_.

Gertrude reluctantly dispensed another shot of Tres Generaciones tequila. If Danny was going to get drunk, he was gonna do it with the best damn tequila in the world.

"_Last one_," Gertrude warned.

Danny elevated the full glass in a mock salute, then downed it in one go.

Gertrude shook her head at his antics. "Whoever the asshole is, he's not worth drinking yourself until you drop. Do you have someone to drive you home?"

Danny's muddled brain took a few minutes to process her comment and query. "Asshole? Ain't nobody makin' me drink. Drinkin' 'cos I hate _these_." - he pointed at the mounds on his chest - "_Hate_ 'em."

The blonde bartender chuckled. "Do you have any idea how many women would _kill _for breasts like those?"

"Yeah well, I'm _special_. And I. _Hate_. _Them_." He shoved the empty glass at Gertrude again. "Nobody drivin' me. I can walk. I'm _alone_." He laid his head onto folded arms on the counter, shoulder slumped. "Gimme _another_."

Danny felt a sympathetic hand on his hair. "What's your name, sweetie?" He felt like weeping at the knowledge that minimal physical contact coming from a stranger already brought him so much consolation.

"Danny." His voice was muffled by the sleeves of his jacket.

"Danny. Short for _Danielle_?"

Danny didn't bother to correct her.

"You want to talk about what's troubling you?" Gertrude stroked his semi-long hair, and he didn't bother to tell her to stop either. "Maybe I can help."

"I can't. And you _can't_." He kept his face buried in the crook of his arm. "It's … _complicated_."

"Well, we won't know for sure until you try."

At length, Danny returned to a semi-upright position. He wasn't wearing his spectacles, so Gertrude was simply a friendly blur of blonde, black and white from her bartender attire. There was something else in his eyes that made the blurriness worse, but his brain wouldn't let him reckon why. Danny entwined the fingers of his left hand into his hair. It had grown some more in the past three days, since Flack sneaked him out of his own apartment and away from the Feds monitoring his home.

"Ya wanna hear my sob story? 'Kay, here it is." Danny sniffed. "Jus' two weeks ago, I was a regular guy with a job and a routine and things were _normal_. Then there was an _explosion_. I got hurt, ended up in the hospital couple a' days. Got out, started feelin' crappy …" - he unconsciously wrapped his arms over his chest - "Slept a lot, then I woke up and found _boobs_ on me where there was none." Danny sniffed again. "I did say I'm a _guy_, didn't I?"

When Gertrude didn't immediately reply, Danny sneered at her. "_So_, go 'head. _Laugh at me_. Go on."

"You want my honest answer? I'm hardly the one to judge you, or anyone else. From what you said, you didn't even voluntarily _want_ this. That's nothing to laugh about, hon." Gertrude smiled benevolently at him. "Lots of transsexual guys just like you come here and drink and tell me about how they used to be regular guys unhappy with their bodies before they went for the gender-change operation and all that. Except, in their case, they _want_ giant, gorgeous breasts like yours."

Danny closed his eyes. "_I didn't go for a boob job_." He opened them again, sullen. "And I'm _not _a transsexual."

"_Okay_, okay," Gertrude replied in a conciliatory way. "So if you hate them so much, why not go to a plastic surgeon about it? I'm sure they can fix you back up."

" … I can't. I go to the doctors, I'll be locked up in a secret lab and become a guinea pig for their experiments for _good_."

"Sweetie, that's not true! Not _all_ doctors discriminate their patients like that. I'm sure I can help you find one who'll look beyond the prejudice."

Danny rubbed his face with a trembling hand. "It-it's okay. Like I said, ya can't help me." He gave her a quavering smile. "Thanks anyway."

The sudden reek of alcohol and sweat hit him hard, and his face scrunched up into an aggravated scowl. Oh great, _another_ lusty patron looking for some tender, loving care in size DD.

"Hi, _sugar_. Howzibout you and I go to the restrooms fer some _fun_?" Gross, this guy was not only more hairy than a gorilla, he had a pot belly bigger than that of a pregnant woman's.

Danny gave the jerk-off the third finger, not making an effort to even look the guy in the face. "Fuck. _Off_."

"Aww, c'moooon, I'll treat ya _real_ nice." The guy's slurred voice took on a sadistic tone. "I'll make _sure_ ya like it." Danny gritted his teeth at the feeling of the jerk's hand on his lower back.

"_Back off_, douchebag," Gertrude cut in sharply. "She said _no_. And hey. You're in the _wrong_ fucking bar."

The hairy beast of a guy turned on the bartender, spitting as he bellowed, "Go fuck yourself, _bitch!_ I been watching this one, and I _know_ she ain't a _dyke_ like you and the rest!"

Wha? A _dyke_?

"I ain't scared of you _women_," the asshole carried on, fisting a hand in Danny's jacket. "Not even the likes of _your_ kind."

Danny struggled to get out of the guy's grip, cursing himself for drinking so much and leaving himself so weak and susceptible. God, he was so exhausted. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Flack again.

"You may be unafraid of New York city women … but how about one from the _countryside_, hmm?"

Danny hung his head low. He was being saved from a drunken ass by _two_ women. This was _humiliating_. He was grateful Flack wasn't here to witness the whole debacle. The taller detective would either laugh his head off at him or take his gun and blow the heads off a few people. Preferably the bastard who was clinging on to him like a revolting, slimy leech.

"Oh yeah? I ain't scared of ya either, ya little _twig_." The jerk finally let go of Danny's jacket.

The next second, the pot-bellied ass was sailing backwards in the air and hurtling to the floor in a hurting heap, an audible crack echoing in the bar as the guy's tailbone connected hard with the concrete floor. A slim figure instantaneously leapt onto the sprawled drunk, slender but lethal hands tight around the guy's obese neck.

"Now you listen to me, you _fat tub of filthy lard_. You think you're some hot shot macho man just because you have a _dick_? I bet you've never known a _real_ woman in your entire sad existence. I bet you've never ever seen the grisly remains of a man _hacked to death _with a meat cleaver. I bet you've never come face to face with a _giant black bear _and _lived_ to tell about it." The mysterious woman tightened her hold around his neck, strangling him and causing his piggy eyes to bulge out. "_I have_. And I beat the _shit_ out of lousy dirtbags like you as a _hobby_."

She chucked him back onto the ground, stood up and gave him a swift kick in the balls. His howl made everyone in the bar cringe with empathy. "Get the _hell _out of here before I do something _really_ bad to your family jewels. _Now_."

Whimpering pathetically, the fat drunk struggled to his feet and limped away as quickly as he could, rushing for the doors out of the bar. The moment he was gone, the whole bar erupted into cheers for the brave woman who'd taken on a man nearly two heads taller than her.

"I'll be damned." Gertrude was grinning from ear to ear. "Sweetheart, I'll be yours _any_ day."

The woman laughed jovially. "Sorry, I'm already spoken for."

Throughout the short fight, Danny had his head averted and his hands over his ears. Mortified didn't even begin to describe how self-conscious he was right now; he prayed for a hole to open up and swallow him so he didn't have to face the other customers of the bar.

A hand settled itself lightly on his shoulder. Damnit, no such luck.

"Hey, are you alright? He's gone."

Danny continued to look downwards at the floor, face heated. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." He decided it would be incredibly rude of him not to look her in the eye to show her his gratitude.

He gazed up.

And his heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

"_Danny?_"

What were the chances he would meet _her _in an establishment like this, of all places?

" … _Lindsay_."

OooooooooooooooooooooO

For someone who'd recently moved to the city, Lindsay had one heck of a nice ride. Danny remembered her mentioning an uncle living here. He wondered hazily if he was really loaded and purchased the car for her. Unless Mac had been bamboozling him on his wages, there was no way in _hell_ Lindsay could afford a high-class ride like the one he sat in on their current pay.

Man, he was hanging out with all the wrong people.

"Where do you live?" Lindsay nudged him. "I'll take you home."

Danny tried his best to recall the address of Mac's hideout apartment under his alcohol-induced stupor. Shit. He never jotted it down.

"I … I dunno." He shrugged noncommittally. He was so drained. All he wanted to do now was collapse into bed and sleep for a week straight.

Lindsay was silent for a while. Then she said in an optimistic voice, "Right. I'll take you back to my place. I have a really comfortable couch you can sleep on. No change of clothes though." She smiled.

Danny was so weary all he could do was reply with a small, "Hhhn." As much as her overt cheerfulness grated on his nerves sometimes, he thought she looked cute when she smiled.

"Then in the morning …" - Lindsay glanced sideways at the DD-sized breasts on Danny's chest - "We're going to have a _really_ long talk. Does _Mac_ even know what's happened to you?"

Danny's eyelids drooped dangerously. "Yesh." Wow, the leather skins of the seats felt great. He was _so_ going to convince Flack to acquire leather seats for his car too.

"Okay." Lindsay started her car, easing onto the road. "You're going to be alright, Danny."

Danny made a vague noise from his throat. Right on the brink of sleep, the subtle hum of the car's engine easing him like a mother's lullaby, a curious thought suddenly pop into mind.

"Montana … what were you doin' at a _lesbian bar_?"

Even as he slipped into slumber, Danny could literally hear her grin from a mile away.

"Messer, if you can't figure that out by now, you're _really_ drunk."


	13. Chapter 13

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Hi again! Thank you for all the reviews. Glad you're enjoying the story! Longest chapter by far, this one is for the Lindsay fans. Can't say they'll like Lindsay as she's written in this story though …

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 13**

The first thing Danny saw was a cuddly armadillo plushie the length of his forearm. He stared at it with bleary, half-open eyes. That was _not_ his. No, he did _not_ cuddle. _Period_. He shook himself to forget Flack teasing him about hugging the blue teddy bear that receptionist at his workplace gave him, at the hospital. He had been _cold_, damnit. That was the only reason he'd been holding it.

He took stock of his surroundings. This unfamiliar place where he was definitely wasn't Mac's hideout apartment either, unless the guy crept in during the night and secretly switched his interiors for western cowboy deco. Danny was a little weirded out he seriously believed his boss could very well just do something like that. Mac was different in that way that enraptured him long after everything else bored the hell out of him. And holy cow, was the a preserved _bull's head _hanging on the wall?

He was reclined on a hefty leather couch, covered by a dark red, warm plaid blanket. Above him on the wall, a vibrant tapestry of desert scenery brought life to the pale-colored wall behind it. All around him were indications the owner of the home had an affection for the cowboy culture; the majority of the furniture were made of wood and the lamp fixtures had a Native American motif to them. Next to the couch was an antique rocking chair with two plush pillows. Another colorful tapestry hung above the television set at a distance from the couch.

The armadillo plushie was stuck in his arms, snuggled against his face and chest. Okay, he did _not_ willingly hug it. Somebody put it there, he was certain of it.

The pleasant aroma of brewed tea assailed his nostrils.

And then his whole body became determined to remind him what a shitty, skull-splitting hangover felt like.

"Rise and _shiiiiine!_"

Danny buried his face into the pillow under his head, and groaned. He felt a troop of hammers start their relentless battering on his helpless brain. No way was he going to handle Montana cheeriness dressed in a t-shirt and jeans properly this early in the morning.

"Danny, I made some tea. I got something to help you with your headache too."

He struggled to his elbows like an old man, groaning some more. He shifted the big armadillo plushie under his chin for support, rubbing at his eyes with the sides of his hands.

"Didchu put this armadillo here?" Danny could feel his hair flopping in all directions. He stuck out his lower lip and blew air upwards to get some strands out from his eyes.

Lindsay chortled. "Uh, no … it was on the couch when I brought you here. You wouldn't let it go, so I left it with you." She grinned at him.

Crap.

"Jus' so you know, I was _drunk_." He sat up and appreciatively took the cup of tea from her. Mmm, jasmine tea. "I'm not responsible for my actions when I'm drunk." His pounding headache receded somewhat as he swallowed the hot drink.

When he finished it, Lindsay handed him another glass filled with a dubious-looking concoction. "It's a family remedy. It'll make you feel lots better." She smiled again. "I know it smells funny, but trust me, it's good."

Danny stared at the greenish-brown liquid with an aghast face. The hammering in his brain came back with full force. He halfheartedly raised the glass to his lips and gulped it down as quickly as he could. Gyaah, it tasted _yucky_. He stuck his tongue out and crumpled his face in disgust.

Lindsay laughed. "Whoops, forgot to tell you it tastes a little funny too."

"A _little? _You tryin' ta _poison_ me? That was, like, New York _sewage!_" He wiped a hand across his lips.

Lindsay went to her kitchen to clean the now empty cups. "You want something to eat? Toast, maybe?"

"Nah, I'm not hungry." Danny shivered in the cool air and pulled the plaid blanket around his shoulders. Lindsay had probably removed his jacket last night; it was folded neatly on a short side table on the opposite end of the couch. He reflexively tugged one band of his white tank top upwards. The one he wore was only one out of three other tank tops that could fit over his chest now. One of his black ones literally ripped open in the middle when he strained it over his breasts. Fuck, it was one of his favorite ones too.

Oh shit. Now _Lindsay_ knew about his … transformation too!

He swathed his upper body, neck and jaw with the blanket until only his eyes and nose showed, sucking in a deep breath to calm himself. Damndamndamndamndamn …

Lindsay came back into view, sitting down on the rocking chair next to him. She had a plate with two pieces of buttered toasts on it.

"Uhm, I called Mac earlier while you were asleep." Her light eyes were all-knowing. "He told me the details."

Danny closed his eyes and curled up into the blanket. "Okay."

An awkward silence reigned for a few minutes.

"You look like you're waiting for me to laugh my butt off at you."

Danny's lips thinned and downturned. "Well, _aren't_ ya goin' to? This is your ultimate piece of _blackmail_ right here, Montana. One sentence is all ya need to say at work to ruin me for life."

"Danny. I'm not the _only_ one here who's learnt a secret that could destroy someone."

Danny's blue eyes opened wide at the statement. He looked hard at Lindsay. She had a tiny smile on her lips, but her eyes were old and sad.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Are you … uncomfortable with … who I am now?"

Danny snorted. "Gee, Lindsay, taken a good _look_ at me lately?" He whipped open the blanket and blatantly displayed his ample bosom.

She giggled, her face crinkled up in good humor. Danny had to smile. She had a cute laugh too. Perhaps, in another time and place, he could have had something remarkable with someone like her. He visualized six feet of flawless skin, big cerulean eyes, dark shorn hair and a blinding smile. No, he wouldn't consider her as someone more than a colleague, not in _this_ time and place.

"So, uh. How long have you … ?"

Lindsay smirked. "Been a _lesbian_?"

Danny grimaced, playing with the floppy ears of the armadillo soft toy. "Yeah. I mean … I couldn't tell at _all_."

"I'm good at hiding it." Lindsay smiled mirthlessly. "You learn to be good at it once you've been burnt long enough. And I've been doing it for a _long_ time." She inclined forward, elbows on knees. "How are you feeling?"

Danny realized his headache had nearly dissipated completely. He even felt reinvigorated. "Hey. That icky stuff really worked."

"It's a secret. I might tell you sometime, since we've moved to the chatting stage and all." Lindsay winked. "Danny, you up for listening to a story?"

"Sure. Got nowhere to go anyway." He moved to a more relaxed position on the couch. "Off day for you?"

"Yeah. We're very lucky cases have been few this past week. Everyone at HQ has been acting strange lately. Mac's more short fused, as well as Stella. Hawkes' more distant than usual. And Flack …" - Lindsay shrugged - "I know he doesn't like me very much."

"Well, ya can't blame them for being that way these days. They're like that 'cos of _me_." Danny fidgeted with the rim of the blanket. "Dunno why they bother worryin' so much 'bout me."

Lindsay smiled. "It was Mac who insisted on me staying with you today. I think your drunken foray at a bar on your ownpanicked him." Her lower face contorted in exertion not to laugh.

"You didn't tell him 'bout that-that _jerk_, did you!" Danny exclaimed.

Lindsay gave up containing her laughter. "Of course not! Then he would have demanded to know what we were both doing at a _dyke bar_, wouldn't he?"

"Thank _GOD_." Danny visibly slouched in relief. He crossed his legs and sat on the couch Indian-style. "Well … what's this story of yours then?"

Her expression turned solemn. "Did you ever wonder why I left Montana and came here to New York city?"

Danny shrugged. "Mac picked ya for your achievements. You broke that case. Figured that was an obvious reason."

Lindsay chewed on piece of toast, leaving the other one on the plate on her lap.

"When I started out as a CSI fresh out of the academy, I thought I had the whole world at my feet, you know? I thought, here I was, with these skills and knowledge that could _save_ people or put their hearts at _peace_. I solved my first few cases, got my reputation jumpstarted and I was on my way up the ladder."

She inhaled audibly.

"Then, I was transferred to a better facility, received better pay, got bigger cases." Lindsay's eyes were glossy in reminiscence. "And _that_ was when I met the person who changed my world and flipped me head over heels. She was … _amazing_. She knew everything, did everything perfectly. She was, well, the kind of CSI I wanted to be."

"There was just one problem." She smiled despondently. "She was _married_. With two kids and a loving, oblivious husband."

Danny winced in sympathy, breath hissing through his teeth.

"The irony was, she was the one who made the first move. Our affair lasted for nearly a year. In the beginning, she promised me she was going to leave her husband to be with me. And being the foolish, naïve thing that I was, I really believed her. I thought things were going to work out for us. For a little while." If Lindsay's eyes were watery, Danny was sensible enough to keep quiet about it. "But the weeks turned into months and … I knew she'd never go through with it."

Lindsay set the uneaten toast and plate onto a side table nearby. "I confronted her about it. Told her I had enough and wanted to break the relationship. She wouldn't allow it. She threatened to expose me and destroy my career if I did it. " Lindsay wiped her face. "But she was at a stalemate, you see. Exposing me meant exposing _her_ too. At her position in the labs, the entire _staff_ would be affected as well."

Understanding dawned on Danny. "Your ex-lover. She was your _supervisor_."

"Yeah," Lindsay replied hoarsely. "When I insisted on breaking up anyway, she switched tactics and gave me three choices. Continue the affair, resign from my job or break up and suffer her wrath of giving me the crappiest work. She made my life a living hell for over four months. I didn't know what to do. I felt so … _lost_, you know?"

Danny's mind evoked the memory of incensed hazel eyes and unforgiving words. In retrospect, especially after Mac's brief talk with him back at his apartment bedroom, the friction between them was, in all probability, nothing compared to what Lindsay went through. But he truly understood how she felt. Sinister laughter reverberated in his thoughts, the image of a shadowed man standing over his dead father with a smoking gun and a malicious grin crystal-clear. Danny Messer was no stranger to betrayal of the highest level.

"A little while after that, I received a letter from Mac, offering me a job right here in New York. It was my way out." Lindsay attempted at a sincere, positive smile. "And as you know, the rest is history."

Seeing Lindsay try so hard at being cheery while she still had tear tracks on her cheeks made a great part of Danny's heart ache. It hurt more so than the persistent soreness in his neck and back. All the occasions where he mocked her or gave her a really hard time in the past months since they met struck him like a sledgehammer. In light of what she just imparted to him … he'd been an utter _asshole_ towards her.

"I dunno what to say." Danny smiled apologetically at her. "'Cept … I'm sorry I acted like a total jerk all this time."

Lindsay gaped. "Oh my _God_. Did you _apologize_?"

Danny made a face. "What? _Whaaat? _What's the _big deal _'bout that?"

Lindsay's mouth stayed cavernous. "It's the end of the world. Danny Messer _apologized_." Then she tumbled back, laughing out loud and clutching her sides. Danny rolled his eyes dramatically, but he was privately delighted to see her laughing again. He hated watching his friends cry or be depressed.

Whoa. He just called Lindsay his friend.

And he was absolutely cool with it.

"Hey, I'm a normal guy, ya know." He glanced downwards at his chest. "Well, _almost_ normal."

Lindsay's laughter slowly trickled away; her smile remained. "I had a good reason to tell you all that. I thought, if you realized I'm not interested in men, we would be able to put aside our differences and start over."

"Whaddaya mean? I've never had anythin' against you." Danny's face heated up at Lindsay's skeptical expression.

"_Mac likes ta be called 'sir'_. Remember _that?_"

Danny grimaced, both rows of pearly teeth in full view. "Heeey, I was just kiddin'! _Teasin'! _People in Montana know what _sarcasm _means, right?"

Lindsay looked daggers at him for another second, then her face split into a huge grin. "Truthfully, I _liked_ the teasing." The grin diminished to a small smile. "Apart from Mac, you were the only person at work who talked to me like I was a person with a _life_, not just another laboratory automaton."

Danny never saw things that way before.

"And Mac … well. I know how you feel about him."

Danny frowned. " … huh?"

"Mac! I know you've been teasing me and ragging on me all this time because of _Mac_." Lindsay waved her hands in circles. "You're _attracted_ to him, aren't you? You were jealous of me possibly taking over your place as his 'young protégé'."

It was Danny's turn to drop his lower jaw. "Whoa_whoa_, I - _you_ … I - how do y-" He bounced once where he sat. "I-_I_ don't even know that for sure."

Lindsay smiled benignly. "The part where you're attracted to him, or the part about you being jealous?"

Danny scratched at his ear in nervousness. "I …" All of a sudden, he was thinking back to a hot afternoon at a pizza parlor just a couple of blocks away from Flack's precinct, chowing down on a delicious slice of pepperoni-and-cheese pizza. It was the day after he got trapped in that schizophrenic billionaire's panic room, and Flack'd kept in mind his demand for pizza while he was still stuck in there. Flack was staring ardently at him as he licked the tomato puree off his fingers, saying in a low, near sensual voice, "Now _that's_ how you treat good pizza."

"Man, hearing it in words … the jealousy thing sounds so _petty_." Danny cackled goodnaturedly. "You're huntin' in the right field, but you're aimin' at the wrong moose."

Lindsay angled her head in a surprisingly mature, introspective way. Her eyes gleamed. "_Huh_. Now _that_ explains a lot of things. No wonder he doesn't like me, what with you and I working together a lot lately."

Danny's face became even redder. He bowed his head and fidgeted with the armadillo plushie. "Believe me, he's not as bad as ya think. It just takes some time for him to get used to new people 'round him." He smiled bashfully. "I dunno whether he feels the same way anyway. And neither of us are … ya _know_."

"Oh, I _know_ about your track record with _women_, Messer." Amusement rang clear in her voice. "In fact, Hawkes mentioned one of your girlfriends a long while back. Cindy. The One Who Talks Too Much." Lindsay grinned.

"_Ex_-girlfriend," Danny amended. "We lasted a total of _twelve days_. Longest relationship I had since _college_. Heh. Like ya said, she talked too much for my liking. The minute she started goin' on about bringin' me to formal functions and _movin' in _together, I was _outta_ there."

_Commitment-phobe_, a voice that sounded a lot like Flack whispered in his head.

"I bet you had more girlfriends than I did." Lindsay leaned back and kicked lightly at the floor to move the rocking chair back and forth. "Counting my current one … I've only had _four_."

"Nothin' wrong with that." Danny scratched the spot between the armadillo plushie's ears. "Aiden always liked weird animals like armadillos," he murmured under his breath. He decided it was Lindsay's turn to lay down her cards on her relationships instead. "So, who's the lucky chick?"

Lindsay bit her lower lip, gazing at Danny with a weighty expression for a few minutes before standing up and heading to her bedroom nearby. She returned moments later with her wallet in hand.

"Here. Take a look for yourself." She passed it to him, opened to reveal a single photograph inserted into one of its transparent sleeves.

In the picture, Lindsay was touching cheeks with another woman, a long-haired brunette with a bright smile and a pert, upturned nose. They both grinned at the camera, their intimacy evident in the way they held hands and had their other arms enveloped around each other's waist. It must have been an evening party for they were clothed in eye-catching, glittering dresses and jewellery.

Danny stared at the other woman for a very long time.

"Lindsay." He couldn't take his eyes off the photograph. "That's …"

Lindsay was sitting back on the rocking chair, her fingers entwined together and held apprehensively in front of her mouth. She didn't say anything.

"That's _Aiden_."

Lindsay smiled diminutively. "Yes, I know. She's a _wonderful_ woman."

"_Aiden's_ your … your _girlfriend?_" Wow, he was using up at least fifty years of his quota of life-shockers in a single _week_. "She - I mean … she _never_ told me she was a _lesbian_."

"She isn't. She's bisexual. Likes _both_ men and women. She had a crush on you for a _long_ time. And Flack too."

Oh hell, he just used up a quota of _another_ ten years on yet _another_ life-shocker. Geez, how did that famous Chinese saying go? _We live in interesting times_. He was finally hearing fresh, if shocking, news about one of his best friends, and yet, all he could feel was … exasperation. Frustration. _Betrayal_.

His surroundings rapidly felt acrimonious and remote.

Fuck it. He had to get the hell out of the place. _Pronto_.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Aiden." Lindsay heard an entire universe of hurt in the utterance of that single name.

Danny gave her back her wallet. Lindsay could virtually see the walls building back up around him by invisible hands with every silent tick of the clock. His face was shuttered.

"I wanna go back to Mac's apartment." He didn't look at her; he scowled at nothing in particular, his thoughts far away. If it wasn't for the toast left on the side table, Lindsay would have been almost convinced none of their conversation had happened at all. She _knew_ there was the chance Danny would react negatively towards this final revelation.

Danny tossed the plaid blanket aside, grabbing his jacket and donning it. He was trying hard to behave aloof, but Lindsay saw the quavering of his hands while he smoothed out the lapels. Danny wasn't as unaffected by Aiden's abrupt departure as everyone assumed, after all.

They stayed mute throughout the journey down the apartment building elevator and to the car park where Lindsay stowed her vehicle. She sighed. As poorly as it'd ended, she still felt everything that took place that morning was phenomenal progress in both their professional and personal relationships. She never imagined it was to Danny, of all people, whom she would tell about her dark secret. Life was unpredictable that way.

As for this Aiden-related hurdle that popped out of the blue, Lindsay was sure it was far from too late to mend the broken bridges between Danny and his former CSI partner.

Aiden's armadillo soft toy he embraced as she drove him back told her more than any spoken denial of his ever would.


	14. Chapter 14

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: To someone with the nickname 'Gambitfox', I know I got a PM from you, but my email checking program ate up the email. So, do you mind sending it to me again? Perhaps you could try leaving a review. Seems the stats for my story has gone kaput too. Oh well.

Short chapter this time, but not to worry, the next one is for Flack and Hawkes fans! Also a little warning for people who're sensitive about current political issues ... none of the stuff written in this chapter is meant to attack anyone. It's simply part of the story as one of the character's opinions.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 14**

The Red Lion was a pub situated in the heart of Little Italy, at the corner of a street bordered by a diversity of family-owned stores, restaurants and cafes. Naturally, they were all owned by Italians whose immigrant ancestors concluded their exodus there in the nineteenth century. Mac seldom came into this part of the city, except to attend the annual, raucous San Gennaro feast for the canoli.

What a _british_ pub was doing in the center of this neighborhood was something that baffled him. Only Jon would choose a place like this for a rendezvous.

"So, Maclaren. I'm guessin' this ain't a social call." Jon Turgis smirked sardonically.

Mac smirked back. "Don't play dumb, Jon. You know why I'm here."

The two men sat facing each other in an isolated section of the pub, right next to the narrow hallway that led to the washrooms and the pub's backdoor. A rectangular lamp above them caused their angular faces to be cast into stark shadows. A half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's whisky stood forlornly on its own next to Jon's brawny arm on the table. They each nursed their own glass; Mac's was still full, while Jon's was almost finished.

"I _told_ ya not to pursue this." Jon's silver eyes glinted sharply even in the darkness.

"I can't back off. It's _personal _now." Mac took a sip of his whisky, eyeing his friend with a veiled expression.

"_Fuck_." An oversized hand seized the Jack Daniel's and irately poured more of the alcohol into an empty glass. "You _never_ let _anythin'_ go, do ya?"

"I mean it." Mac scowled acutely. "Your _secret technology _has … seriously affected one of my employees."

Jon stilled. "What the hell are ya on 'bout?"

"Did you really think I'd let you invade _my_ lab and take _everything?_" Mac's lips curled into a charade of a smile. "You _know_ what I'm talking about. _Microscopic_, _sentient robots _sound familiar?"

The colossal man squeezed into his seat stared at Mac in silence.

"Can't _imagine_ what people would want with that kind of technology. What do _you_ think, Jon? Got any bright ideas about that?"

Jon continued to stare, then grinned mirthlessly. "Smart boy. Shoulda known you woulda hidden away some of it for yer own personal research."

"I want to know."

"Know _what?_"

"Tell me about it. This advanced nanotechnology the _FBI's_ developing."

Jon sucked the inside of his cheek, coolly gauging the other man. "I tell ya, I'll have to kill ya."

"You've said that to me at least _five_ times in the past, Jon. Closest you ever came to _killing_ me was when you coerced me into going to that appalling belly dancer bar in Saudi Arabia. You remember _that?_"

His friend smiled frankly for the first time that evening. "God_damn_, I remember. I had to drag you out by the ankles the next day 'cos the women sucked you dry." Jon's grin stretched. "_Literally_."

Mac's face warmed. His body revived the sensation of lying on a soft rug and squashing two _very_ abundant womanly body additions in his hands. His face warmed even more.

"Geez, I didn't think _you'd_ even _remember_ that." Jon took another swig of whisky. "Whadda hell brought that on?"

" … My employee." Mac grimaced. "The nanotechnology's … _changed_ him."

"Into what? A friggin' _belly dancer?_" Jon's face slackened at Mac's lack of response. Or rather, the discomfited expression on his face. "You're fuckin' _kiddin'_ me."

" … No, I'm _not_."

"Sonofa_bitch_." Jon burst into a thunderous guffaw that compelled the other customers of the pub to glance in their direction. "Now _that's_ one fer the books! Who's the unlucky bastard?"

Mac pouted, drawing circles in the water rings left by the chilled glass.

"So we're gonna play the guessing game, eh? Right." Jon cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in concentration. "A _him_, eh? There's … that ME turned CSI. Sheldon Hawkes, was it?" Jon watched Mac intently. "Hmm, no, it's not him. How 'bout … the _pretty boy_? The son of that _New York legend_, they call 'im. _Flack_. No?"

Mac remained hushed.

"Hmmmm. Naah … " Jon's brows went straight up his lined forehead. "It's that _Messer_ guy, hhn?"

Mac returned his stare at long last. "Yes."

Jon erupted into another round of cackling. "Poor bastard. Shoots a fellow police officer, gets locked up in some panic room with a dead guy … and now he's turned into a …" - he gesticulated with his callused hands as he searched for an appropriate term - "A what? A guy with _boobs_? A mishmash of both man and woman?"

Mac didn't take the trouble to update him further on his recruits; his old friend most likely had information about them even _he_ didn't. At least Jon wasn't aware of the fine details of Danny's … predicament.

He pointed at Mac with a long forefinger. "_Told_ ya he was gonna be a buncha trouble, didn't I?"

Mac frowned. "He needs _help_, Jon. What happened to him wasn't his fault."

"And ya think you can just _call me up _and _demand a meetin' _and then tell me, 'Hey Jon! We bein' such _old pals _and you bein' an _FBI assistant director _and all, why don'tcha hand over _top secret government secrets _so I can help out one o' my rowdy _brats_? Hey, it doesn't matter it'll putcha in _deep shit _and _fuck up _yer life … a bullet into yer brain's quick and _easy_ anyway, _right?_"

Mac shut his eyes and squeezed his temple, frown intensifying. He couldn't tell if was his friend's angry black humor or the whisky that was triggering another of his migraines.

Jon huffed with the power of a jet engine.

"I could never say no to ya … could I?"

Mac gawked at Jon with wide eyes, face heating up at the implication in those words. Jon gazed in return from beneath lowered eyelids.

"Geez, after _all _this time, you _still_ blush at my mention of -"

"_Jon_, just tell me about the _nanotechnology_. Or any useful information," Mac cut in, evading Jon's eyes. Jon's intimate scrutiny were bringing back memories that were rather unbecoming in their current circumstances.

"Well, like I said. I could _never_ say no to ya."

Jon downed what was left of his whisky. He decanted more into Mac's glass and his own before speaking again.

"Okay. _Okay_. It's like this. Our country's at _war_ now. We've got enemies who'd do just 'bout anythin' to destroy us, if they could. They got to us once already." Jon didn't need to bring up the September 11th calamity; it was present like a suffocating elephant in the room. "But the thing is, _we've_ been flappin' our dicks and stompin' on other countries long before these guys even _thought_ 'bout doing the same thing to us."

Jon scoffed at Mac's affronted look.

"Oh, _c'mon_, Maclaren. It's the _truth_ and ya know it. Do I even hafta mention Vietnam? The Middle East? _Iraq_?" Jon grunted. "Weapons of mass destruction. _Hah_. Believe me, their weapons are nothin' compared to _ours_."

"Ya think you should be scared of _them_? Naah, monsters exists, alright, and they're right _here_. At _home_. Fuck, the things I've seen … ya can't even _begin_ to imagine the fucked up crap I've seen in our labs since I became a Fed." He gulped another mouthful of alcohol, licking his thin lips. "Ya remember those _Cyclops babies _we saw in the Gulf? That was _nothin'_."

"So, let's be honest with each other here. The second the word 'terrorist' pops up, ya'll be thinkin' of some bearded, Asian man with a turban on his head talkin' 'bout _jihad_ and killin' infidels and Jews. Even if ya don't look like that, it don't matter jack shit. Don't even matter if you're of any other _religion_ or _race_, specially if you're from a _Muslim_ country. We don't like yer _face_, yeeeeer _out_."

Jon leaned forward. "Now, let's just say, some dumbass scientist in some laboratory creates the _ultimate_ weapon the world's never supposed ta know. He makes teeny weeny nanobots capable of doin' _anythin'_ the guy programs them to. _Anythin'_."

"_And_ let's just say, this technology gets stolen by the wrong people. Let's just _say_, they figure out how to program the nanobots to _transform their bodies _and make themselves look like _completely different people_. Like, oh, I dunno … your typical white, _american _folk. Gonna be kinda hard to figure out who's the terrorist and who isn't if that happens, hhhn?"

Mac's hand clenched into a fist on the table top.

"That's not even the worst shit. Just imagine the kind of _bioterrorism weapons _that could be made from this technology. You won't even _need_ any o' them _viruses_ anymore. All ya need is a fuckin' warped imagination and a nanotechnologists who knows what he's doin'. And the whole world gets fucked faster than a young whore in Amsterdam."

"'Course, _none _of that crap's happened. _Yet_. We've been observin' the entire project really closely from the start, and nothin' leaked out." Jon sighed heavily. "But yeah, of all the messed up things … we just _had_ to have a male nanotechnologists with a fetish for _dressing in drag _and wantin' to be a freakin' _woman_."

Jon sneered, while Mac's brows raised dramatically.

"Yeah, you'll never know what comes yer way, huh? So, the guy creates his special nanobabies, and then he throws a fit _requestin' _the big guys that he be allowed to use his creation to change himself into one. For _real_. You can picture how _that_ turned out. He freaked out big time at their denial, and the little bastard turned fugitive on us and vanished into thin air."

"I got a whole buncha crap for it. The higher ups held me responsible for the guy going missing." The giant man rubbed jadedly at his face. "I dunno why the fuck I assigned _those_ two idiots to watch 'im, of all o' 'em. Least they're workin' in my favor now, even if the poor fucks don't know it."

"The agents who went to my CSI's apartment last week." Mac gazed meaningfully at Jon. "It _was_ you who called me."

"No, Maclaren. It was friggin' Smokey the _Bear_."

Mac couldn't help himself and smiled at the non-sequitur.

Jon reached into his coat pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes. It surprised Mac. He never knew Jon had picked up the habit of smoking.

"The scientist is incognito for a couple o' weeks. I get my men searching 'im high and low, and no one finds a trace of him. Then, we hear 'bout a suspicious dead body abandoned in upper Manhattan covered in the stuff we've been tryin' to hide from the world all this time. And of all the sonoftheguns who gets the case … it _juuuust_ had ta be _you_." Jon pulled out a single cigarette and lit it with a black plastic lighter. "Somebody up there hates my guts, I tell ya."

"So, the end of the story is, we don't know if anybody else's gotten a hold of the nanotechnology. All we can do is _wait_. And here we are, with _your_ guy in one hell of a mess. You ever thought 'bout recommendin' 'im to go into the strippin' business?"

Mac pointedly stared at him.

"What? I can't even crack a joke no more?"

"I need _information_. Anything that can _help_ him. I know _you_ know how he can be changed back. I'm not going to leave you alone until you do." Mac bared his teeth. "And you _know_ how persistent I can be."

Jon's face was blank, but his silver eyes said many, many things. "Oh, I _know_ how persistent you can be. I'm just damn glad I was always clever enough ta keep a large supply of condoms 'round."

Mac flushed crimson.

"You're so _easy_." Jon puffed on his cigarette, grinning like a cat who got the canary twice over. He got out a pen and small notepad, scrawling down an address.

"Go there. On the outside, it looks like a derelict building but don't let it fool ya. There's an exclusive club in there. Look for someone called Gideon." Jon slid the piece of paper to Mac. "That's all I can do for ya."

"Thank you, Jon." Mac was genuinely grateful.

"Hell, don't thank me yet. Ya don't even know what you're up against." Jon blew out some smoke through his nostrils, looking like a quiescent humanoid dragon. "But as I said, you're a smart boy, top CSI that you are."

"Jon … are they _blackmailing_ you?"

"Blackmailing me? Hah, you've gotta be kiddin' me. This is _Nuclear Jon _you're talkin' to. The guy who friggin' wipes out everythin' in sight, remember?"

Mac gave him a tiny smile.

"By the way …" Jon put out his cigarette on the table, then got to his feet. He had a wicked smirk on his weathered face.

"If you're gonna crash that club … don't bother bringin' any of your female detectives. If ya know what I mean."


	15. Chapter 15

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: This turned out longer than I expected … so, next chapter, we'll have even more Flack and Hawkes and Mac!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 15**

"I deserve a raise. Just for _this_."

Hawkes squirmed in his seat, attempting to find a relaxing position and finding his efforts in vain thanks to his … irregular outfit.

"_Relax_, Hawkes, it's just a _club_ we're hittin'. Be happy it ain't one of those seriously _weird_ ones." Flack was in the backseat, his length extended along the pale leather, head behind Mac in the driver seat.

"I … wouldn't say that."

Flack sat upright at Mac's dubious comment, pushing his head between the seats to look at Mac. "Heey, whaddaya mean by _that?_ I thought you said we were scouting out some private club in uptown Manhattan. Like, a regular _dance_ club, _right?_"

The trio were in Mac's black SUV as it voyaged through a dark, narrow alley, headed for what Mac'd been informed was an abandoned ten-storey apartment building at the end of the passage. Hawkes sat next to Mac, attired in clothes his mother would have screamed her head off at, if she ever saw him in them. Flack, who was behind them both, was in a clubbing outfit Hawkes' mother would also have screamed about. And maybe passed out right after that.

While Mac had his usual work clothes on, Hawkes was wearing tight, white trousers with gold studs and simple star deco down the sides, pure white dress shoes and a sleeveless, white turtleneck that felt two sizes too small for his liking. A gold pendant hung from a thick, black cord around his neck. He had more bling on his wrists and fingers than he'd ever worn in his life; if he started rapping, he'd thoroughly fit the bill of a gangsta rapper. The orange-shaded, trendy spectacles that curved around his eyes completed the look.

Flack looked like a dark angel in his black and white gear. Like Hawkes, he had on tight trousers, except his were black, and had shiny, silver chains hanging from the leather belt on one side. One thin chain hung from Flack's neck, bearing a simple circular ornament. Bulky spiked and buckled boots adorned the tall detective's long feet. His top was much more provocative than Hawkes'. The tribal-patterned, long sleeves reached all the way past the wrists, but beginning diagonally from the shoulders towards the body and down, the shirt was nothing but a near-transparent black mesh. It left very little to the imagination. Indeed, Flack's suits hid an exceptionally _fine_ body.

What riveted Hawkes, however, was the dramatic eyeliner and mascara work on Flack's large, blue eyes. Plus the bright blue lip gloss on the man's lips that glittered brightly under the soft light radiating from the car interior ceiling. There were more sides to the homicide detective than he ever expected. Hawkes reflected with amusement on Stella's almost fangirl-like reaction at Flack's spanking new look. He supposed the women wouldn't complain about seeing all those hidden sides one _bit_.

"There's a good reason why Stella and Lindsay _aren't_ part of tonight's investigations."

Flack glowered unabashedly at his boss, who seemed to be trying his hardest at not smiling and doing it quite badly. " … It's a _gay_ club, isn't it?"

Hawkes pivoted to look at Mac too.

"Alright, according to what I've been told, it's an elite underground club catering to those who … walk a different path from the regular people."

Flack fell back and slumped in the middle of the backseat. "Yeahyeah, I get it, it's a gay club."

"Something like that. Don't be surprised to see BDSM activities in there either." Mac added under his breath, "I hope you two aren't the _prudish_ type."

Flack snorted.

"You … you're not expecting Flack and I to go in as … _lovers_, do you?"

Flack sputtered indignantly at Hawkes' question.

Mac smirked, turning the steering wheel as the car cleared the alley and entered a fenced compound, nearly full with other vehicles. There weren't any ordinary, cheap cars either. Just like Jon said, the appearance of the building that housed the club was very deceptive. Had Mac not been told the truth, he would have assumed it was about ready to be demolished right down to its foundations. The only indication something was shady about it were the massive, metal front doors of the building. They were brand new.

"I'll have ya know there're people out there who'd _kill_ for a date like me," Flack said huffily.

He glanced outside at the other cars. "_Whoa_." Flack's eyes were bugged out at one particular car. "Whoawhoa_whoa_. Is that a _Bugatti Veyron_? Holy _crap_, that car costs over a friggin' _one million dollars_. And it's not even _here_ in the States yet." He stared slack-jawed at another car nearby. "And … that's - that's a _Pagani Zonda Roadster_. That baby's over _six hundred and sixty thousand dollars_."

Hawkes whistled in akin appreciation. "Boy, we're talking _high class _clientele here."

"Which is exactly why _you_ two are going in." Mac grinned. "How did Stella put it? You're the _pretty boy eye candy_ looking for your _hot daddy_."

"If I get to drive one a' _those_ babies, I'll be a _pretty boy_." Flack was probably drooling all over his upholstery at this point.

Mac reached into the side compartment of the driver door and took out a thin, light folder. "Here are the two headshot photographs of the DB I kept from the Feds. You'll need to show them to the person called Gideon. There's no other way we can approach things since we don't even know the victim's _name_. All I'm told is that this Gideon has information about the DB which'll help us with Danny's situation."

"Where did you get the address of this place from?" Hawkes' brown eyes were filled with innocuous curiosity. "Or the information about this Gideon person? From the person whom you mentioned could help us?"

"Think of my informant as an ally we have who's working for the other side _and_ for us. That's all you need to know."

"If this informant of yours was so helpful, why didn't the guy supply you with the name of the victim, at least?" Flack might be looking like a tempting offer on the outside, but he was still all cop on the inside. "Or more details on Gideon? We're goin' in _blind_ here. Without _back up_, apart from you."

"Trust me. My source is _one hundred percent _trustworthy. If he says it's safe for us to see this person, it _is_." Mac sucked on his lower lip. "The fact he even _met_ with me in _person_ to disclose the information has already put him at _great _risk."

Flack evaluated this for a few moments, then said, "Okay. But anythin' feels off, I'm gettin' Hawkes and I outta there fast as lightning." Flack frowned. "I'm doin' this for _Danny_."

"We all are." Mac opened the folder and gave Flack a small piece of paper that was inside it. "The password for entry."

Flack took one look at it and snickered. "Heh. _Niiice_."

"Whatever it is, I'm leaving it to _you_ to say it," Hawkes said, holding up his hands. "My jacket, please?"

Flack passed Hawkes a white jacket that had a custom-made, large pocket in the back, in the inner recesses. Mac slipped the folder into it.

"Only items security will allow are cel phones and wallets, so we'll have to hide the pictures in there. No guns either." Mac looked uneasy, even with the knowledge Jon handed him. "So be _careful_. I don't know how they'll react to having two police officers in their midst."

"We have our phones. Things go bad, either Flack or I will speed dial you to alert you." Hawkes sighed. "And if we don't even have the chance to do that … let's hope it won't come to that."

Mac clasped Hawkes' arm in support. "I'll be here. _With_ the artillery." Hawkes smiled at that.

Flack opened one of the back side doors, getting out of the car. He looked ethereal in the moonlight.

"C'mon, Hawkes. Time to look for our sugar daddy."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

A rectangle of metal slid to one side to reveal a pair of leery, jade eyes.

"Password."

Flack swaggered up to the door, thrusting his face close up to the rectangular peephole. He smiled in a seductive manner that, to Hawkes' incredulity, made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

"Give it to me _hard_ and _good_, _biiiig daddy_."

Hawkes could have sworn Flack absolutely _enjoyed_ saying that.

The eyes scrutinized the tall detective for a few minutes. Then, the rectangle metal slide abruptly resealed the peephole, and with a loud clang, the metal doors opened inwards.

Hawkes stood in awe at the muscular African woman in a black, dazzling tuxedo who stood as sentry at the door. Nevermind that the bouncer of the club was a woman, her immense bulk and steely gaze were signs she was _not_ the kind of woman who tiptoed on high heels or carried tiny dogs in her purse or broke like a branch at the slightest blow. On the contrary, Hawkes was most certain _he_ was the one who'd snap in two should he end up in a brawl with her. She glared at them from under the rim of a stylish bowler hat, her round face ringed by two gigantic half-hoop, gold earrings. Her peroxide blonde braided hair flowed down the sides of her neck.

"Who is your _master?_" She had a low, rolling voice that prompted Hawkes to think of spouting, active volcanoes.

Flack's teeth flashed. "Gideon."

"Gideon? I was not told of any new _acquisitions_ by the boss."

Flack didn't even blink. "Yeah, we're fresh meat. Comin' for … _trainin'_, aren't we?"

Hawkes inhaled clearly as Flack's blue eyes focused on him. He never realized how _deep_ they were. His mouth was dry.

"Hhhnn." The bouncer inspected them for yet another minute. Then her green eyes settled on him with even more intensity than Flack's. "Well, _well_." Her full, red lips split open to show two rows of ivory-white teeth. "What do we have _here?_"

The intimidating woman grasped his face in one large hand and compressed his cheeks between her fingers until his face and lips were smooshed like a fish's. "My name is Samiya Sinn," she said huskily. "_You_ can be my Hershey chocolate kiss _anytime_."

Hawkes wanted to squeak like a church mouse.

She let go, pinched his nose almost playfully and said in a much more amiable tone, "The club's been wholly booked by one of the regulars for a party tonight. But for _you_ …" Samiya winked at Hawkes. "I'll let you two in."

Flack grinned sideways, stroking his hands down his thighs. "_Awright_. Where do we find Gideon?"

"Ask the bartenders. The boss might be making the rounds with the guests." She stepped to one side to let them in. "You rookies keep out of the Black and Red rooms. They're for the _experienced_."

Hawkes was too nervous beneath the towering woman's fervent gaze to wonder what she meant by that.

"Stick 'round, Hershey Kiss. I'll be looking for you later." She blew him a kiss.

He gulped. Hawkes had a bad feeling he was going to be snapped in two that night anyway.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack's primary impression of the club was that it was the sort of place he'd like to work at, if he wasn't a cop or the son of a renowned one he could never live up to. Instead of being irritating, its multi-colored neon lighting created a dreamlike, suspended atmosphere that made Flack want to lie right where he stood and start gushing abstract poetry. Throbbing dance music induced his body into swaying and writhing subconsciously to the unceasing beat.

The interior architecture was constructed in such a way it resembled one of those ancient roman stadiums where gladiator battles used to be held. Flack and Hawkes had strided through a short corridor to arrive at the base of the club, the main spherical zone where the bar dispensing drinks was located in the center. Above the bar, two DJs in neon costumes and makeup spun their musical sleights of hand on an elevated platform. Encircling the bar were plush pillows and mattresses all over the place; patrons lounged on them as they drank and interacted with each other. More mattresses and pillows littered the club's many levels, stacked upwards in the shape of a staircase. At the highest level, Flack could see black doors spaced out on one side, and red doors on the other.

He desired to enter them and see what it was that took only experienced people to … experience.

"Flack … we should head for the bar." Hawkes was standing _really_ close to him, yelling into his ear. The CSI was checking out the milieu with inquisitive but anxious eyes, staring in particular at a group of clients on a black mattress close by. A man in an ankle-length, dark PVC ensemble lay on the middle of the bed, flanked by two other men who were collared around the neck and wore nothing but semi-transparent body suits. The collars were hooked with chains bound around the middle man's fists.

Flack joined Hawkes in gaping at the two men in body suits licking each other's faces and necks for some time, until someone bumped hard into him as they walked past. Flack impulsively turned to glare at the person, gasping at the bespectacled man in black leather who stuck his tongue out at him. Or rather, the other man's exposed, tattooed buttocks where the seat of the leather trousers were meant to be.

Shit, the guy looked just like _Danny_. Flack nearly slapped himself silly as that thought brought on even more kinky notions about the CSI. Geez, it was already bad enough his best friend was _gifted_ with DD-cup breasts. Flack did_ not_ need the additional imagery of the guy in skintight, leather trousers with his butt out in the open.

Hawkes prodded him in the side and tugged on his arm towards the bar. It took them a mere two minutes to wrestle their way through the throng of people, but it felt like an eternity. Flack had never been so physically harassed and fondled in his life. His bottom had been squeezed at least six times, there were constant hands running all over his torso and legs, and he had to roughly bat away probing hands away from his groin a few times. Perhaps he was dressed _too_ well for the occasion.

Poor Hawkes was suffering the same quandary, the redness of his face apparent even in the diffused lighting of the club. "I think I just contracted at least _twenty_ assorted types of sexually-transmitted diseases."

Flack snickered gruffly. "Think of it _this_ way, Doc. Least ya know you're _hot_."

Hawkes merely made a cynical face.

The two detectives literally collapsed onto the glass counter of the bar, Flack's arm around Hawkes' broad shoulders. Flack beckoned the bartender with dreadlocks and ordered two martinis. They sat on the stools available, staggered into silence by more shocking and sometimes erotic sights around them. Flack's brows lowered in confusion when he noticed two women entwined on a pile of pillows, chatting in close proximity to each other. Guess the club's customers wasn't restricted to only men, after all.

Flack glanced to his right and was face to face with another female patron. He smiled, face crinkling with laugh wrinkles. Hey, just because he was working didn't mean he couldn't flirt with a hot chick while he was at it. And wow, _this_ one was something out of the ordinary.

Compared to him, she was a tiny thing, around five feet tall at most. She had on a very low cut, black lacy top, with long bell sleeves that covered her small hands. Around her abdomen was a black leather corset laced up in the back. Another black, plain corset wrapped her neck and a single star pendant hung from the neck corset onto her chest. Three-inch long silver earrings with stars complimented the pendant. Flack's eyes grazed downwards. He had _nothing_ on her tight, black trousers or steel-spiked boots. He hoped he never learnt what it felt like to be kicked by those on _any_ part of his body.

His eye flitted back up. Her round, heart-shaped face was unhelpful in enlightening him on how old she was. For all he knew, she could have been only _twelve_. Her chest area and the agelessness in brown, almond-shaped eyes that looked back at him from behind black-framed glasses told him another story. But, damn, this was the first time he'd ever met a woman who had a Mohawk haircut like hers.

His smile grew into a full-fledged grin. "Hi."

Her thick lips, filmed with pink, glittery lip gloss similar to his, curled into a smirk. "Hi."

Thank _you_, Danny, for the introduction to cute, Asian women.

"So … you come to this joint often?" Oh, _reeeal_ smooth, Flack.

Her smirk stayed. "Sometimes. It's nice to have a place where no one cares what or who you are."

Flack angled his head, chewing on his lower lip. "I'd say only a fuckin' _idiot _wouldn't like you, babe."

She lifted an eyebrow, smirk turning into a closed smile. "I think I shall take that as a compliment."

Flack laughed. Man, he wished he wasn't actually on an investigation. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know a guy called _Gideon_, would ya? He's the boss of this place."

The bartender handed Flack his martinis, and Flack passed one to Hawkes, who'd been sitting quietly beside him all this time. Hawkes was having a blast being enraptured by some women in skimpy club clothes having a pillow fight. Heh, the guy sure was learning a thing or two tonight. Flack was so engrossed in his new acquaintance he missed the suspicious, sideways gaze the bartender directed at him, or the subtle movement of the bartender's hand under the counter as he pressed a button there.

The woman simply continued to smile at him.

"Huh, guess ya _don't_, hhn? That's okay." Flack shifted closer to her, carefully avoiding the hazardous spikes of her boots. "I'm Don. What's _your_ name?"

"Flack …" He sensed Hawkes standing up.

The booming music drowned out the forceful footsteps that loomed on them.

"_Flack_ -" Whatever Hawkes was going to say hacked off into a asphyxiated gurgle.

One second later, Flack was choking himself as he felt a crushing hand around his neck. He was hauled right off the stool, and his hands grappled instinctively at the vice-like grip in order to breathe.

"_No_, Samiya."

Flack drew in a powerful breath at the release of his throat. He scowled at the bouncer while rubbing his neck. Samiya grinned brazenly back, still clinging onto Hawkes who looked like he was being suffocated to death between her generous bosoms. Then he realized who it was who'd commanded her to let him go. He stared at the Mohawked lady with big eyes.

She beamed, displaying uneven teeth in a vast smile.

"I'm Gideon."


	16. Chapter 16

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Fair Game', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Whoa, this chapter came out eeeexxxtra long. Yep, Danny's coming up in the next one. Plus … a very, very unexpected guest star! As for what some of you are asking, there'll be a Mac/Danny scene soon. Not gonna say anything more than that. Yes, I'm mean that way, mwahahah.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 16**

All Don Flack, Jr. knew was he was in deep, deep _crap_.

In the time the Asian woman in corsets introduced herself as Gideon, eight men had joined the party to enclose him, Hawkes, Samiya and their manager. All were dressed in impressive black tuxedos like the bouncer, except the difference was that the men had guns at hand. Nine millimeter pistols, Flack's brain observed.

"I personally know _all_ my clients," Gideon said. She had a british lilt to her accent. "Everyone is screened before they're even informed of my club's _location_." Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm _very_ sure I've never seen the two of you until tonight."

One of the security guys stepped forward and roughly searched over Flack's body, snatching out the detective's cel phone and wallet. Flack stayed still; he wasn't that stupid to fight when there were at least eight guns aimed at his head. The goon flicked open the wallet and displayed Flack's golden badge for Gideon's view.

"NYPD." Gideon smirked at Flack. "You have no idea just how _many_ of your fellow officers are in this club at this instant."

Hawkes let out an outraged squawk.

"Boss, Hershey Kiss here's NYPD too." Samiya had taken out Hawkes' wallet and cel phone as well. She had a mischievous expression on her mien, and was _still_ holding onto the distraught CSI as if he was the greatest treasure in the world. It was like watching a mouse tussle with an anaconda.

"_Samiya_." Flack had no idea how such a powerful voice could come from such a lightweight body like Gideon's, much less how it effortlessly overwhelmed the deafening background music. "Why did you let them in?"

The African bouncer grimaced. "They had the correct password, boss. The scanners didn't detect any weapons on them either."

Wait a minute, Flack didn't remember going through any scanners.

"We'd have cleaned them out before they even got into the club if they did. The tall one said they were your new slaves too."

Ah, the scanners must have been installed in the walls of the corridor he and Hawkes walked through. And _what? Slaves!_

"_So_. _Someone_ told you about the password and address of the club." Gideon's brown eyes stabbed Flack to the core, arresting him in position on the stool. "_Someone_ sent you here to see me, hmm? _Who?_"

"_Nuclear Jon_."

Thank _God_. It was Mac. Half the guns swung to point at the newcomer in the scene.

Mac had somehow skulked up to the group without detection, and was standing before them, cool as a cucumber. His long coat, dark trousers and light grey shirt and were as immaculate as ever. Even his hair was still perfectly in place. However, the stark annoyance in the narrowed hazel eyes and the little blood stain on the side of his mouth was evidence it hadn't been a trouble-free task for Mac to get to them.

"How the _hell _did you get past _Gerard_ and the _boys!_"Samiya roared. Hawkes winced at the volume. He really, _really_ wanted to breathe properly again, and not go deaf while he was at it.

"I'm a _Marine_. I'll let you ponderon that."

Mac stalked up to Gideon, heedless of the clocking of guns and the sudden spike in tension. "Tell your bouncer to let my detective _go_."

Gideon and Mac had a staring showdown, nose to nose, for over a minute. Eventhough Mac was standing over her and literally head and shoulders above her, she was scarcely afraid. She smiled with amusement, not breaking eye contact with the lead CSI. She hadn't had this much entertainment in ages.

"Samiya."

"Aww, _boss_, I get to play with him _later_, right?"

Hawkes was shaking his head violently and looked as if he was going to burst in tears. His head and neck were all but the only body parts he could move; the bouncer's strong arms around him efficiently paralyzed him from shoulder to waist. He'd quit kicking with his legs a while ago. He was a couple of inches off the floor, and Samiya turned out to be invincible even down _there_. Why did he always attract the _bizarre_ ones?

"_Samiya_." Gideon's voice brooked no disobedience.

With a low whine, Samiya grudgingly freed Hawkes from her embrace. The tearful CSI instantaneously rushed up to Mac and hid behind the man. The poor guy was possibly traumatized for _life_.

"Nuclear Jon." The diminutive club owner laughed softly. "You _know_ him?"

"Yes." Mac stood back. "We were in the Marines together. As well as the NYPD."

"_Ahh_." Gideon appeared even more child-like when she grinned from ear to ear. "You're _Maclaren_. The _Screaming Mac Attack_!"

Flack's eyebrows shot up to his hairline at hearing the nickname. Apart from having four guns trained on him, he was actually finding the whole situation riotous. Danny would be laughing his ass off and rolling on the floor by now. Or totally start hitting on Gideon. Unless she kicked him to bloody bits with her boots first. Or _he_ did. Or something.

Tonight was yet another night Flack was going to write in his diary, if he had one, as one to tell his fan club one day when he was older. His imperturbable, firm supervisor was _blushing_ red as a cherry. _Mac_. _Blushing_.

"Oh _yes_. Jon has certainly told me _much_ about _you_." Gideon stroked Mac's warm cheek with one, red-fingernailed hand. "He was right. You _do_ look adorable when you blush." She waved at her employees. "Stand down. They're harmless."

Flack started on his seat when Gideon looked meaningfully at him from beneath lowered eyelids. "Compared to _me_, anyway."

The security goons sheathed their weapons and left, blending in with the surrounding crowd, who were completely unmindful of the short-lived confrontation. Only Samiya remained to watch over her manager, and evidently, Hawkes too. Hawkes took cover behind Mac completely when she twiddled her fingers and winked with both eyes at him.

"Jon wouldn't have sent you to me without a good reason. Therefore, what is it the _NYPD_ wants with me, hmm?" Gideon crossed one leg over the other gracefully, keeping her gaze on Flack. "My club is legit, but you're free to check it up for yourself. Every client is a consenting adult."

"Technically, we aren't here on an official case." Gideon's eyebrow raised at Mac's statement. "This is a … _personal _one."

"Hmmm. I understand the …" - Flack wriggled under Gideon's eyeballing of him from head to toe and back - "Undercover _costumes_ now. Well, _good friend _of Nuclear Jon." Gideon switched her concentrated gaze onto Mac. "How may I be of service?"

Flack's mind went to very dirty places at the huskily uttered question.

Luckily, Mac still had his head on straight. "We believe you may be able to identify a murder victim whose case we were working on two weeks ago."

Hawkes took off his jacket and handed the black folder in the inner pocket to Gideon. He was very sensible to stay out of Samiya's reach. "Any information you can give us is appreciated."

Gideon flipped open the folder and stared at the two photographs for a moment. Some emotion flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before Flack could pinpoint it. She closed it and gave it to Mac. Whatever amusement she felt was gone now.

"Yes. I know him." She glided off the stool onto her feet, motioning to Samiya with one twist of her head, her long earrings tinkling. "Samiya, take them to the Velvet Room." She then turned to Mac, who was visibly pleased at her answer.

"Come. Let us discuss this in private."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The Velvet Room was aptly named.

The entire room was covered from ceiling to floor in purple velvet adorned with gold filigree patterns. Flack couldn't find any seams in the carpeting at all, so it was as if he was entering some velvet womb where he could roll around all day in a texture feast of the senses. Like the club, the room itself was round in shape too. It was lit by six lights high on the walls, bathing the chamber in a warm, orange luminosity. Four ornate chairs were arranged around a square block made of white granite to the front of the room. Beyond them, was a circular, mammoth-sized bed draped in shiny gold sheets and pillows, a garland of red and white roses set on the middle of it.

Whatever discussions had taken place here previously, Flack had the inkling they were mainly of the _physical_ type.

Samiya pulled out one of the chairs for her boss. Mac and Hawkes followed the two women to the seats and sat opposite each other. After staring at the bed for a few minutes, Flack eventually took his seat opposite Gideon. He was subject to her avid inspection once again. And truth be told, he found it flattering, even if he'd never say it out loud.

She grinned at him, a perceptive glint in her eyes.

"This room is a favorite of many of my customers. I'd be more than happy to let you stay a night here, Don." Her eyelids lowered. "It's _soundproof_."

Flack's face heated, and his hands tightened into fists. He suddenly felt like somebody had torn open his chest and exposed his heart to the universe. He parked himself on the last empty seat, pointedly looking away from the others.

Gideon tipped back in her seat, arms resting on the curving armrests and calmly studying Mac and Hawkes. Flack had the sudden inclination to prostrate himself and call her Your Majesty or something alike.

"I am Gideon, owner of The Seventh Gate. Tell me your names."

"I'm Detective Mac Taylor." Mac gestured at Hawkes, who seemed to be back to his normal, composed self. "This is Detective Sheldon Hawkes, and _this_ is Detective Don Flack, Jr."

"Hmm. Don Flack, _Jr._"Gideon rubbed at her chin with one finger. "You look just like your father."

Flack was speechless.

"Don't worry. I've only met him a few times _outside_ of the club at … certain official functions. It pays to know people, after all. He's much too _conservative_ to come to place like _this_, if he ever got to know about it." Gideon's face cracked into yet another grin. Her asymmetrical teeth gave her a distinctive appearance. "I can't say the same for his namesake though."

Flack was sure his face was on fire.

Gideon's facial expression turned somber.

"But, to answer your inquiry, Detective Taylor, yes, I know the man in the photographs you showed me." She tapped her fingers on one armrest. "Adam. _Professor_ Adam Kovacs. He was a scientist working clandestinely for the government. He used to come here to … escape the torment of his life. The FBI always turned a blind eye on his extracurricular activities and tolerated his … _transgender__kinks_, if it meant he wouldn't run off and defect." She glanced at Mac. "He specialized in advanced nanotechnology."

Mac perked up at this; Gideon noticed the action.

"This is related to your investigation?"

Mac nodded. "You've helped to confirm some information I was given."

The door to the Velvet Room opened, and a waiter dressed in nothing but silky, black trousers, black dress shoes and a collar with a bowtie on it entered with a tray of red wine in crystal glasses. He set the glasses onto the granite block that served as a table, smiling shyly when Gideon sincerely said, "Thank you, Stuart." Then, the young man left as quickly as he came.

"The finest wine." Gideon took a sip from her glass. "For New York's finest." She appeared to have a partiality for smiling puckishly. "If I'd known the NYPD had such _fine_ men … I'd let my club be raided _every_ night."

"I got a question for ya." Flack was tired of being on the defensive. Time to turn the tables. "What's up with all your employees being _guys_ only?" He thrust his chin at Samiya, who stood guard behind Gideon. "'Part from her."

Gideon puckered her lips. "Let's just say, there was a _negative_ incident where one of my former employees became too … obsessed with me. She attempted to shank me with a plastic knife she concealed where the sun didn't shine." She smirked joylessly. "If it wasn't for my loyal Samiya, I would be buried six feet under the ground by now, so to speak. It is also why my security has been upgraded to include metal detectors _and_ x-rays."

Samiya had a satisfied smile on her face, her chest puffed out and hands crossed in front of her. It obviously meant a great deal to the bouncer that her boss thought so highly of her.

"Most of all … there's nothing wrong with being surrounded by _pretty men_, is there?"

So _that's_ why Mac's informant advised him on sending in only his male detectives for the job. Stella and Lindsay might never have made it past the security goons, much less received any attention from Gideon herself.

Out of the blue, Gideon's eyes turned steely. "Jon _knew_ about this?"

"Yes. He's … at a precarious position," Mac said.

Gideon sighed, and frowned.

"Adam was one of my _friends_. He spoke often about his work. I was a shoulder to cry on when the pressures became too much for him. It was common for him to disappear for weeks at a time as his work constrained him to his labs most of the time. But still, I should have known something was wrong when he didn't contact me after what he proposed to do to himself."

"To use his nanotechnology on himself?"

Gideon lifted her eyebrows in response to Mac's question. "Yes. He intended to use to … change his gender. Sounds like something straight out of a science fiction book, doesn't it?"

"Believe me, if none of us saw the body, that is _exactly_ what we'd have assumed too."

"A terrible ending was what I've always anticipated for him thanks to his line of work, and the people he worked for. Although I wish it could have been anything other than that." Gideon's voice was mellow with sorrow. "How did he die?"

"Our examiner was … unable to determine an exact cause of death. We found his body lying naked in the back of an alley. It was covered in a blue substance we've clarified to be the nanotechnology he created. We originally assumed the victim was a woman, from the, uhm …" - Mac was at a loss for words for a minute - "Large female parts. And lack of male genitalia. Our speculation is that it _was_ the nanotechnology that killed him."

"_Naked_. Thrown like _trash_ in the _back of an alley_." All three men shrank inwardly at the ire in Gideon's wide eyes and louder intonation.

Gideon covered her mouth with a hand, eyes narrowed to slits. "It wasn't a wig he was wearing in those photographs, was it? That was his _real_ hair."

Mac nodded in verification.

"Detectives." Gideon gazed intensely at each of them. "You must understand, Adam was a _perfectionist_. He would never go through with any major operation unless he was as certain as possible it would be a success. When he contacted me to inform me he was ready to perform the experiment upon himself, it was proof he was sure everything would turn out fine. _Not_ ending up _dead_ and _naked in an alley_."

"So, what you're saying is … it was _sabotaged_." The fierceness in Hawkes' eyes was a different kind of anger; regardless of who the victim was, murder was a vicious crime. Especially when the corpse was discarded in the most humiliating way for the world to see.

"I wouldn't even blink an eye if _she_ was the culprit," Gideon said scornfully.

"Who's she?" Flack sat forward in his seat, his wine untouched.

"Delilah. His _wife_. She's a nanotechnologist, like him. In fact, they worked on the same project."

Mac and Hawkes looked significantly at one another. This was the break they'd be waiting for!

Flack was on it like a rottweiler mauling a piece of meat. He leapt to his feet, slamming his hands on the granite block in front of him. "_Where is she?_"

Samiya paced forward at Flack's violent reaction, prepared to defend her boss against an attack. The bouncer growled menacingly, but Gideon raised a hand and halted Samiya in her path.

"Detective Taylor said this was a _personal_ investigation." Gideon's almond eyes were compassionate as she gazed into Flack's upset blue ones. "Someone you care for deeply has been harmed by the same nanotechnology."

Flack gritted his teeth, a sudden wetness burning behind his eyes. "_Tell me where she is_. _Now_."

Gideon stared at him another moment, then asked Samiya for a pen and paper. The African woman got out a golden pen and a notepad from inside her black tuxedo jacket. Using them, Gideon wrote down an address. She handed the piece of information to Mac.

"You can find Delilah Kovacs at her penthouse there. I should warn you, the pompous bitch is a handful to deal with. I suppose all that power got to her head the moment she realized the advantage she had over her employers. What with her expertise being so atypical."

"Like Adam, the FBI will be watching over her too. However, I have a tip that might aid you and give you some time. Apparently, she's a full-blown _heroin addict_. Very adept at hiding it, but I have my sources that substantiates it." The Mohawked lady smirked. "One of her dealers is a _sub _of one of my customers. She recently restocked her stash. She conceals it in a secret compartment in the pedestal of a mermaid statue. You'll know it when you see it."

"Thank you. We really appreciate this." Mac folded the piece of paper with the address on it and slipped it into his coat pocket.

"Anything for Nuclear Jon's … _friend_." Gideon's eyes sparkled at Mac's flush. "There _is_ one way you can thank me, Detective Taylor." Gideon looked back at Flack, who hadn't bothered to sit down and was seething with the drive to hunt down their suspect.

"I'd like to speak with _Don_. In private, if I may." Don stilled at Gideon's request.

Mac glanced at Flack. "It's up to him."

Flack bit his lip, then nodded. Samiya went to open the door.

"Do take your wine with you. Samiya will bring you back down to the bar for more, if you like. It's on the house."

Mac and Hawkes thanked her, then took a wine glass each, heading for the door. Hawkes sent Flack a sympathetic look, like the one kids at high school would whenever one of their own was about to be punished by their school principal. Mac sauntered through first, and missed seeing Samiya deftly pluck the glass out of Hawkes' hand and heave him up by the arms towards her face.

All Hawkes could think of was mouth-watering candy and sunshine and honey as the woman's full lips covered his in one profound, stunning kiss. Maybe it was the fact he was off the ground by a few inches that gave him the illusion he was floating on Cloud Nine. Or was it the wine?

"Whoa, _Doc_. I think she _likes_ ya." There was laughter in Flack's voice.

Samiya let him go with a final smack of the lips, winking at him and pushing a piece of paper with a number written on it into his jacket pocket. "Mmm, Hershey Kiss, you sure live up to your nickname. Gimme a call _anytime_." Hawkes could only smile lopsidedly and rock dangerously on his feet. Samiya laughed, closing the door behind her.

Well, gee, at least _somebody_ was gonna have a good time tonight.

"Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly."

Flack swiveled to face Gideon once more. "Yeah, so who's the spider and who's the fly?"

Gideon pouted, standing upright. "I, for one, am no aficionado of spiders. However beautiful their webs may be."

She reached into a pocket on the back of her tight trousers, giving Flack an ideal view of her bottom. Flack shamelessly stared. Oh _yeah_, maybe Hawkes _wasn't_ the only guy on the team who was going to get lucky tonight.

In her hands were two rectangular pieces of black plastic with some wordings on them. She took his hand and placed them into it.

"Huh?" He studied them closely. "_VIP_ passes?"

"Yes. Do bring your significant other with you when this case of yours is solved. I wish to meet the man who has such power over you."

Flack stammered, "M-_man? _What makes ya think it's a man?"

Gideon's pink lips curved into a shrewd smile. "I observed the way you were staring at those men in the body suits. As well as your reaction to Silas."

Oh, the guy with the tattooed _butt_. Flack's face reddened.

"You care _very_ much about this man."

Flack avoided looking in her eyes. "Yeah. I guess. Dunno 'bout him, though. He's … like _fire_. Entrancin', ya just can't look away, but when ya try to get too close, ya get burnt. The worst thing is that he doesn't mean to do it, but he can't help it anyway."

"Well then, perhaps a certain handsome homicide detective just happens to be _fireproof_."

Flack chuckled. "Yeah, I'm one of a kind, babe."

"He's a very lucky man. I hope he knows that."

Flack smiled timidly at the remark.

Gideon touched him gently on the chest, over his heart. "Can you promise me one thing? Promise me you'll bring Adam's murderer to justice?"

Flack smiled benevolently down at the owner of The Seventh Gate, patting her hand with his giant one. "I promise I'll do everything I can."

Hell, for what happened to Danny, he was gonna make sure that bitch went down _good_.


	17. Chapter 17

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts"

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

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Author's Notes: Officially the longest chapter so far. Man! My only advice when reading this one is … please to not be drinking any hot coffee or tea. Or anything liquid, for that matter. And yes, episode spoilers have moved up to the latest episode so far, Necrophilia Americana. Possibly one of the sweetest DannyFlack episodes yet! The document manager doesn't quite like me for some reason. Sometimes I have problem uploading any documents, so if you wanna check for the latest chapters, the best place to go to is my homepage. The link is available via my Profile page.

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**Chapter 17**

Danny sneaked past the rainbow-colored front entrance of the bar, dropping his head and shielding his face with the lapels of his latest coat. Eventhough he knew the chances of anyone in there looking out the windows would spot or recognize him were exceptionally slim, his face still turned bright red.

The Rainbow was a very fitting name for the dyke bar where he crashed and burned his despair that night.

And the dirty-blonde, shoulder blade length wig he wore should be dispelling any suspicions he was the same person who was nearly molested by that fat, nauseating jerk-off. He shivered, zipping up the coat up to the top of the collar until only his blue eyes showed.

He had whined to Flack about wanting a large, bulky coat similar to his CSI one with the excuse he was cold in Mac's hideout apartment. There was no way Danny was going to tell Flack about his jaunt into a _lesbian_ bar, much less getting his ass rescued by the new girl in town. Flack would tease him for _months_. Within a half hour after his call via a secured line, Stella was there with what she said was one of Flack's smaller coats and a few … _bras_. Danny could barely look Stella in the eye as he took them, but she was very sweet and never once mocked him about them. Instead, she related to his neck and back aches, and insisted that he wore them for the sake of his comfort.

With hot breasts like _hers_, Stella was one woman whose advice he'd take any day. She was right too; he instantaneously felt much better once the pressure rescinded, the weight now supported by the black, lacy bra. The bra felt really unpredictably pleasant too, except for the tautness around his chest caused by the belts running to the back where the bra was fixed firmly by metal clips. Danny was never, ever going to treat women disrespectfully again. He was wrong all along; they had it _way_ worse than guys.

He was tremendously grateful Mac trusted him enough to leave him on his own at the apartment, even after his drunken escapade. There was also no way in _hell_ he was going to let anyone know he spent over forty-five minutes simply admiring the DD-cup breasts he now owned in their new brassiere. Wow, if they weren't on his own chest and on a real woman, he'd be trailing her on his hands and knees dribbling like a St. Bernard dog. He knew he wasn't the only guy who thought they were the bomb. Flack and Mac did a piss poor job of concealing their caveman ogling whenever they were around him. What the heck did women need guys for when they had fantastic body parts like _breasts_ to play with all day?

He looked like a completely different person in the mirror. He'd given up on waiting for any of his facial or body hair to grow back. He was starting to grow fond of the smooth appearance and feeling big time anyway. At the very least, he still had hair down _there_. As well as his _manly equipment_, thank _God_. If _those_ disappeared on him, he was going to go on a freaking homicidal rampage whether anyone liked it or not. His arms had slimmed; they were still toned but were more … _feminine_. His legs were still the same but they were always skinny in any case. His eyelashes were probably longer than an average woman's. Even his lips had become more plump.

The hair on his head finally stopped growing a day after his stay at Lindsay's apartment. He didn't want to think about that much; what he learnt there still made him bite the inside of his cheek. If he were to comb his hair straight down, it'd droop just a bit past his chin. He hoped Mac didn't mind him using the scissors or barber's shaver he found in the apartment's bathroom cupboard. He never knew Mac cut and trimmed his own hair; yet another hidden talent of his supervisor. In the morning after breakfast from Mac's stocked fridge, Danny had shaved short the hair in the back as well as the sides. He left the front long as it was, merely trimming it a little and layering it the best he could so it reached to his lips. After much testing, he decided on a side-parting style, tucking the hair on the more narrow side behind his ear while letting the hair on the wider parting fall across his face, veiling one eye. It was definitely a novel look, and he thought it suited his new physique. Combined with his silver spectacles, it lent his overall appearance an air of sophistication.

Discovering the _wigs_ in Mac's bedroom closet was a real shocker to Danny. He spent over a half hour browsing through a huge box of them, laughing at some of the radically-colored ones. Who the heck wore a violet and yellow, curly wig with pigtails? He picked out a few wigs he thought were appropriate for outside wear; he'd need to wear them if he wished to be certain no one would distinguish him when he was out and about. He was still puzzled by the presence of the wigs, until he looked into another box and saw a whole stack of photo albums, a layer of dust coating the top one.

The upper few were all packed with photographs of Mac and his late wife Claire, a striking brunette with a kindhearted smile. He'd met her only once, when he began working for her husband. Her open affection for Mac and those around him left a lasting, positive impression on Danny. In many of the pictures, Mac and Claire were kneeling or huggling different children, smiling almost playfully into the camera and wearing some of the wigs he found. The various children were also wearing silly wigs, some with circus clown make up on their beaming faces. There was one thing all the children they were with had in common.

All of them were attired in light hospital gowns, some appearing as pale as the gowns they wore. Some were terribly emaciated and sickly, as if they were going through a grueling medical treatment their young bodies couldn't handle. Some, who weren't donning wigs, were bald. Some had nasal cannula tubes attached to oxygen tanks snaking across their faces, as well as IV drips in their skeletal wrists. Some were too weak to stand or walk and were in wheelchairs, blankets laid across their laps and legs.

In one specific picture, where Mac was wearing a bright green, shaggy wig and embracing a group of these laughing children in his arms, there was a sign above them.

The bold words, 'Children's Cancer Ward' were meticulously printed on the rectangular plaque.

Danny should have been laughing his guts out at the vision of Mac in a ridiculous wig like that, but all it did was bring stinging tears to his eyes. If he ever had any misgivings about Mac lying about genuinely caring for him, they were permanently expelled now. It seemed Danny had been erroneous about many things in regards to his boss and fellow CSI. He wasn't the pitiless, emotionless bastard people presumed he was at all.

Based on the delighted smiles of these cancer-stricken children, Mac had a bigger and more loving heart than anyone could ever have imagined.

Danny sat on the bedroom floor spending his time looking through the photographs throughout the afternoon before tenderly putting the photo albums and wigs back where they originally were. He silently pondered whether Mac still visited the children's cancer ward at that hospital after Claire's untimely passing.

Now, as the sun began to set in the distance skyline, Danny strolled aimlessly on the streets to clear his mind and get some fresh air. The wig was feeling more and more like a cap with each step, so it no longer bothered him as much. Flack's coat was just right on his shoulders, keeping him snug and warm from the dropping temperature of the evening. He pressed the collar against his nose, breathing in the natural scent permeating the woolen fabric.

Damn, Flack smelled good. Like roses and fresh apricot.

He stepped off the curb, rapt in meditation about squiggling initials within a heart into wet cement and buying Flack a pair of shoes. Where he and the tall detective could go for a couple of rounds of golf sometime, after this was all over. He couldn't help thinking Flack was trying to hint at something when he chitchatted about the initials in cement thing, during their investigation of that urban golf case. Kinda strange of the guy to jump to conclusions that people writing their initials like that would automatically end up bickering, much less get married.

Danny half-expected Flack to doodle _their_ names in a heart on the wet cement, just for a joke's sake. He smiled sideways at the idea, ambling towards the pavement on the opposite side. That would have been amusing. He would have sliced it out and kept it to tease Flack about it then. And even if there was no teasing, it would be nice to keep it for memories.

The shocking impact of a car's bumper on his leg took his breath away. He was flung sideways onto the hood of the car as the car attempted to brake, landing hard on the unyielding metal surface then spinning off and rolling twice before lying facedown on the abrasive road. His spectacles clattered away somewhere into the distance.

"Oh my _God!_ Are you _okay!_"

Danny tried to lift his head, but even that was too much of an effort over the trauma he was just subjected to. An image of Mac's concerned face materialized in his mind, followed by Flack's visage, the homicide detective's eyes round with trepidation.

_I'm sorry_, Danny whispered soundlessly.

His eyes fluttered close.

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Flack slumped on Danny's couch alone, scowling at the television as it showed some peculiar cartoon about a talking yellow sponge who fried Krabby Patties for a living and had a fat, pink starfish for a best friend. His heavy-lidded eyes were directed at the television, but his mind was distracted by other issues. Flack's pint-sized companion on the couch next to him nudged him in the arm to encourage him to speak.

"This here apartment belongs to one of my best friends. I told ya 'bout him, remember? He's a CSI, means crime scene investigator. He's a detective like me, 'cept I work in the homicide department and at another precinct in the city." Flack took a mouthful of beer from the can he held in hand. His brain was berating him for drinking alcohol during the day, a _work_ day. He told his brain to shut the hell up because he got to leave early so he was technically off already, so_ there_. And it was _his_ body too, _so there_.

"See, he's not like other guys, my friend Danny. He's like, _like_ …" Flack gesticulated wildly with his free hand like a theatrical actor starring in Macbeth. "He's like, the ultimate _drama queen_. He whines better than a spoilt little brat with too much for his own good. One time, he drove this chef at this Italian restaurant nuts over a cold lasagna. We were out eatin' after a _movie_, _okay?_ So, there we were, me with my hot ravioli and him with his cold lasagna and he demands ta see the head waiter or the chef. The chef comes over, and Danny reams him a new one over why a cold lasagna's a fuckin' crime the guy oughta be arrested for. So, get this."

The yellow sponge on television suddenly screams and runs around like a mad … yellow sponge, eyes popping out of their sockets and wailing something about bad Krabby Patties. Flack thought that complimented his story really well.

"The chef mistakes Danny for_ really_ wantin' to arrest him, and hightails it right outta the place! _Whoosh!_ Me and Danny do the chasing cop thing, we bag him just a couple a' dozen feet outside the restaurant 'cos the perp's so_ fat_ he was already wheezin' when Danny slams him like a quarterback." Flack laughed, sipping more beer. "_That _was _good_. Danny bounced off the guy like he was a friggin' _trampoline_. You shoulda seen his face when he landed on his ass after that." Flack sniggered some more. "Danny was bruised in the toosh for over a week. But the thing is? Turns out Danny's drama act paid off for the NYPD. We came up with over a _million dollars'_ worth of drugs in the perp's fridge. Guy was so anxious 'bout his stash, he couldn't even cook his food right. _Heh_."

Flack smiled happily for a minute then hastily returned to scowling like an old man with no teeth who could no longer eat his favorite food. "_Fuck_, I miss the little snarky bastard."

He bounced on the couch to face his conversation buddy. "Did I mention I haven't seen him in nearly three days? _Three freakin' days?_"

His companion gazed at him with round, russet eyes and made a noncommittal sound.

"Man, I can't even _call _him unless it's on a _secured line _Mac set up. God knows where the hell the guy knows these things, but whatever. Least I get ta talk to Danny once in awhile." Flack selected an undersized slice of pizza and handed it on a plate to his pal, who eagerly chewed on it. "I _hate_ waitin'. Did I mention that too? I hate waitin' to bust that scientist broad for drug possession when we could be doin' it _now_. I hate knowin' Danny's out there on his own and we're stuck havin' to work on other cases too instead of putting his to the forefront. And I _hate_ havin' to pretend like Danny's around here so the Feds'll think nothin's up."

"So, Danny calls up and says, 'Flack, I'm _cold_ here, gimme a big _coat_, will ya?' I mean, geez, if Mac was gonna give him a hideaway place ta stay, ya think he'd turn on the _heating_ too. But yeah, I got to talk to Danny and tell him the good news we're on ta somethin'. So if everythin' goes accordin' to _plan_, we should be havin' a _nice_, little chat soon with somebody who'll be able to turn Danny back to his old self." Flack's lips twisted into an abominable smirk. "And if the bitch doesn't wanna, I'll make _sure_ she knows what it's like to be interrogated by _Don fuckin' Flack, Jr._"

His little chat buddy let out a high-pitched whine.

"Yeah. I know 'xactly how ya feel. I'll let ya have a go at her too, if ya want. You're _way _too good for her though."

Flack finished his beer and sighed, looking glum. "I don't like it, ya know, when he's left alone too much. I _know_ him. Always gets kinda hyperactive and mad when he's got nobody 'round him for too long." Unease narrowed his blue eyes.

"I just hope he's not gonna go out against orders and get into major trouble, ya know?"

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The tarmac was icy and coarse beneath his cheek.

"Are you _alright?_ Please _say_ something if you're conscious."

Danny felt two strong hands on his shoulders, turning him onto his back. There was a burning soreness in his left thigh and knee, and he ached all over his body. He wasn't sure if he'd broken any bones, but it didn't feel like it; he'd be shouting his head off if he did. He felt slightly woozy too; the whole world spun around him like a sadistic merry-go-round. He wanted to get off this frickin' ride. _Now_.

Somebody patted him on his cheek. He moaned, twisting away. As long as he closed his eyes, he didn't feel like throwing up the contents of his stomach.

"_Please_, tell m-"

" … Stop _shakin'_ me. I'm just … _dizzy_." He shoved the hands away, keeping his eyes closed, wincing at the sprain in his left bicep. He was going to feel that for some time.

"Thank _goodness_. Here, let me help you up."

The same hands grasped him under his arms and deftly lifted him to his feet. Danny groaned. _All _his bruises were making themselves known now. Why did this crap _always _happen to him? Did he have some poster stuck on his back that said, 'Potential Victim Here'?

"Do you need to go to a hospital?" That voice … it sounded familiar.

"N-no, it's okay. I just need a moment." Danny shielded his eyes with a hand, nearly tripping over when his left leg buckled. Fortunately, the other man was speedy as he was strong.

"_Whoa_, okay. There's a bench nearby." He led Danny to it, seating him there and then sitting next to Danny himself. "Are you hurt anywhere? You landed pretty hard on my car although I already braked."

Danny inhaled sharply, grimacing at the dull pain pulsating unabatedly in his left thigh. "Just my leg. Think I just bruised it badly."

Danny's eyes snapped open when the man tenderly squeezed his left leg. _Ouch_. Now_ that _hurt.

"Sorry. Just checking to see how bad it was. You're right, it's only bruised."

He felt something being placed into his hand. It was his spectacles.

"T-thanks." Danny put them on.

"I regret to tell you your, uhm, wig is now _crushed _under one of the front wheels of my car." The man chuckled. "However, I don't know why you're wearing one. You have _lovely_ hair."

Danny swore he _knew_ that voice. He stared down at his chest and realized his coat had by some means unzipped during the accident. Anyone who looked at him now would have one amazing view of his cleavage.

Including the guy who'd knocked him down and then helped him.

Oh shit! He had to get _away!_

"I-I'm sorry, I have to _go_." He lurched to his feet and hobbled away as swiftly as he could. Ohcrapohcrapoh_crap_ …

"Wait! _Please!_" He felt a hand clutch him not unkindly by the arm. Okay, as mortifying as it was, this was one of those situations where he wasn't going to think twice about screaming like a woman.

He pivoted to face the guy headlong, his mouth falling open to shriek as loudly as he could.

And any sound that emanated at all died into a pathetic croak at the now identified face.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you. I'm a _police officer_, see?" The man had taken out his wallet, displaying his NYPD badge. "I head the Internal Affairs Bureau."

He flashed a huge grin at Danny. "Chief Hillborne. But you can call me Neville."

"I … I-I-I … I-"

Oh. _Fuck_. He was fucking _DOOMED_.

"Won't you at least tell me _your_ name?"

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"Okay, this is how it's been so far." Flack was consuming his fourth can of beer. His jacket was flung somewhere behind the couch, and his shirt was opened wide at the collar. His striped tie was askew. His blue eyes were half-open, giving him a sleepy, inebriated look. He sprawled indolently on the long furniture, his pizza-eating buddy now lying on top of him, examining him with big brown eyes.

"_I'm_ the one who's always makin' the first move, see? First word, first touch, first _whatever_. And _he's_ always the one who gets to think out his move 'cos _I'm_ the one who hasta figure out whaddahell he's thinkin'. I say, 'Hey Danny, whaddaya think a' my _new suit?_' and he says, 'I dunno, Flack, ya ever thought 'bout gettin' yer eyes _checked?_' Budda-budda-budda-_ching!_ See, it's like this game we play. We tease each other 'til one a' us breaks down and laughs."

Flack sloppily takes a swig from the beer can. "Geez, it's tough ta make the guy laugh … but when he does, it's like the Eighth Wonder of the World. And I get ta see it all for _myself_." He frowned suddenly. "Ya know what I heard, pal? I heard from Mac that Danny stayed over at _Monroe's_ place. Ya know that? _Slept at her place_. He's never crashed at _mine_. Ever." His frown intensified. "What's she got that I _don't?_ _Hahnn?_ Some country _hick_, comin' over here like she thinks she owns the place, like everybody's gonna forget _Aiden_ so easy. _Hmphh_. I miss Aiden too. I could always talk ta her 'bout Danny." Flack wiped at his mouth.

"Yeahyeah, she's replacing Aiden, but it'll be _fuck all _'fore she replaces _me_. I ain't so easy to be kicked outta the competition, if ya get what I mean. Danny and I, we got somethin' _special_ goin' on. It's been there since we first met over five years ago, _ya know that?_" Flack huffed, closing his eyes in resignation. "Least I know there's somethin' special _I_ feel for him."

Flack's tiny companion whined again and laid his head on Flack's chest.

"Aww, it's not _you_ I'm mad at, Einstein." Flack affectionately scratched Mrs. Penrose's pet Corgi between his cute, triangular ears. Einstein stuck out his tongue and panted in enjoyment at the head scratch. "Danny likes ya too much anyway."

"Einstein? _Eiiiinsteeeeeeeeein!_ Where are you? It's dinner time!"

Lying on the couch, Flack grimaced. Einstein raised his head and woofed at Flack.

"Whoops. Guess I shouldn't have fed ya all that pizza and beer, huh?"

Cuddling the Corgi, he got to his feet swiftly albeit a little unsteadily. He opened Danny's apartment door to see Mrs. Penrose in a flowery dress and sandals with her wooden cane, about to yell for her pet dog again.

"Einstein! There you_ aaareeee_."

Flack smiled at the petite old lady, placing the adorable dog onto the floor. Einstein scampered up to his owner, licking her hands and barking with enthusiasm.

"I, uh, I kinda fed him already, Mrs. Penrose. Sorry 'bout that."

"Oh, of course it's _fine_, Donny." Mrs. Penrose glanced up at him. "Is everything alright with you and Daniel?"

Flack made an ambiguous face. "Well, _uhm_, yeah, everything's _fine_. Danny's, uh, just gone on a short _holiday_. Wanted me to look after things here." His lower face split into what he hoped was a benign grin.

Mrs. Penrose old, kind eyes oddly reminded Flack of Gideon's. "Ah, I see. No wonder I haven't seen him in a while. He deserves a holiday once in a while. That boy works too hard sometimes."

They watched Einstein scurry into Mrs. Penrose's apartment on his stubbly legs.

"Don. You can talk to me. _Anytime_."

Flack was pissed off at himself for feeling like he wanted to bawl.

"Thanks, Mrs. Penrose. It's just … _difficult_. I can deal with it. But I'll keep yer offer in mind."

Mrs. Penrose smiled at him, and then returned to her apartment. He went back inside Danny's, closing the door. He slid down it, kneeling at its base.

In the privacy of the empty apartment, Flack silently sobbed to the soundtrack of the cartoon's ending credits.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"You _do_ have a name, right?"

Danny was so petrified he couldn't even _breathe_.

"D - D … Dan- …" He suddenly recalled the name that bartender Gertrude at The Rainbow had dubbed him. "_Danielle_."

"Danielle." Hillborne was still smiling. "That's a _beautiful_ name."

Danny wanted to laugh hysterically. This was the guy who humiliated him when he tried to clear his name over the Minhaus subway shooting. The guy who bestowed him with one of the lowest, sorrowful days of his entire _existence_. Yet, here he was, the chief of IAB, _hitting on him_.

And the dumbass. Didn't. _Recognize_ him.

"I really am sorry about the accident, Danielle. I hope you'll forgive me. It was _entirely_ my fault. I should have been more cautious when driving. Please, let me take you out to _dinner_. To make up for it."

Danny's brain broke into a thousand pieces. A muscle twitched uncontrollably in his forehead.

"I just made reservations at Nobu this coming Friday, at eight in the evening. I was intending to dine alone, but since we're here …" Hillborne's eyes were pleading pitiably for a encouraging answer. "Do you like Japanese cuisine? I'd love to take you there for a good meal. _My_ treat, of course."

Danny was certain his skull was now simply a vacant cavern where the IAB chief's remark of Nobu and Japanese cuisine ricocheted over and over. Nobu, on Hudson street. One of the most opulent, star-studded Japanese restaurants in the whole of New York city.

Hillborne tugged a card from inside his wallet. "Here's my number. I can pick you up from your place … if that's what you like."

What Danny would _like _was to run far, far away and hibernate in a cave for a decade. Or maybe a century.

But his lips parted to say, "I'll meet ya there."

Hillborne's mien was lit by a humongous grin. He appeared _that_ close to leaping into the air and clicking his heels. "That's … that's _great!_ I'll see you there then. Take care!" The man strutted back to his car, a polished, black Mercedes Benz S320 model car.

Geez, he was walloped by _that?_ Danny was amazed he wasn't squished _pancake_ on the road.

Danny stood like a scarecrow as he stared uncomprehendingly at Hillborne waving at him, the chief's name card flapping between his fingers. The black sedan veered around the corner and departed from view.

_Oh. My. God._

What in Hades had he just _done!_


	18. Chapter 18

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts"

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

**Chapter 18**

Stella's blazing eyes were ultra green in the brilliance of the sunlight that sifted through the slits in the blinds.

"Hmm, what do _you_ think, Flack? Think our _illustrious_ member of society here is innocent?"

Flack half-sat on the sole table in the room, glaring down with murderous eyes at the tanned, blonde woman clothed in an expensive, red Chanel suit.

"I dunno, Stella." Flack's voice was remarkably cool in contrast to the ferocity in his blue eyes. "Kinda hard to _believe_ that, ya know? What 'bout the _five kilos_ of _heroin_ we found at her apartment, ah?"

The wife of the late Professor Adam Kovacs was seated with her back facing the screened windows, but her runny nose and watery eyes were plain for both detectives to see. Even though her makeup was scrupulously done, it wasn't good enough to cover up the dark bags beneath her eyes.

"Would you like some _tissue paper_, Mrs. Kovacs? Perhaps I can get a fellow officer to buy ya some _herbal chicken soup_ from one of your _posh_ restaurants." Flack towered over her, one hand on the back of her chair and the other flat on the table. He shoved his face next to hers, the sunlight casting one side of his face into the shadows. "I mean, I'm _sure_ all _ya_ have is the flu. A _respectable_, _qualified professional_ like yourself couldn't _possibly_ be a _heroin addict_."

The trio were in one of the interrogation rooms at Flack's precinct. It happened to be his favorite one too; he'd busted many perps in this very room. The last one, a retired local wrestler, ended up sniveling like a baby. After all the crap he had to go through to get this woman onto his home turf for grilling, he was gonna wring her for _everything_ she had.

"You can't do a _thing_ to me." Delilah Kovacs was the mainstream pretty, blonde and filthy rich woman in the big city, enclosed with a nasty fake tan that caused her to look more like an orange than anything else. She looked liked a Barbie doll come alive. Gideon had been thoroughly accurate in her description of the nanotechnologist. She was an utterly snobbish bitch who was unmoved by Flack's bullying tactics and peered down her noses at them both as if they were lower than dirt.

Flack noted that there wasn't a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, nor was there a paler circle around that finger that indicated she'd recently worn one.

"Do you know who I _am?_ I'm the government's most _prized_ scientist." The blonde woman ignored Flack and glowered blatantly at Stella, who sat opposite her with her fingers steepled on the table. "Without me, they'd be on their _knees_. The FBI will be here any minute now to deal with this _stupidity_ and _release_ me." Correction. She wasn't just snobbish. She was egotistical beyond belief.

"Oh, yeah, most _prized_ scientist." Stella smirked mirthlessly. "Bet you only got _that_ title after you _killed_ your _husband_."

Flack sneered at the tremor in the woman's hands.

"Adam? I haven't seen him in _weeks_. I don't know what you're talking about."

Stella merely gazed at Delilah with a calm expression. "Gee, Flack. She sure is _upset_ at his demise, isn't she?"

"Yeah. She's cryin' _rivers_ of tears." Flack remained in her personal space, eyes wide with impatience. "_Loves_ him so much she couldn't give a damn where her_ beloved_ hubby was for the last few _weeks_."

"Mrs. Kovacs, allow me to enlighten you on your husband's _situation_. We discovered his _naked_ _corpse _lying in an _alley_. In fact, we weren't even sure if it _was_ your husband, because his _genitals_ were _missing_ and he'd grown _G-cup breasts_. Oh, and here's the most interesting part of it all." Stella leaned forward slowly. "His body was covered in a neon-blue substance we've identified as the _oh-so-secret nanotechnology_ only _you_ and your late husband had the skills to work on. _Hmmm_, extreme body transformations and advanced nanotechnology and one dead man turned woman. How _do_ they connect to each other?"

Delilah's pastel blue eyes were filled with disbelief and consternation. "How … h-how do you _know_ all _this!_ _No one_ outside the project is supposed to know! _No one!_"

"You have _your _sources. We have _ours_." Flack smiled like a cobra snake.

Stella went in for the kill. "_You murdered Adam_, Delilah. Chucked his body like rubbish so everyone could see what a _freak _he was."

The blood drained from Delilah's visage, leaving her pale and drawn. Her teeth bared in antipathy. "You don't know what it's like to live with a - a _sick_ thing like him." Her voice began to escalate in volume. "Do you know how shameful it is to have a husband who - who _dresses in women's clothes! _Who wants to be a _woman! _HE _HUMILIATED ME!_"

Delilah's frenzied admission resonated in the room.

"Whassamatter, _Mrs_. Kovacs? _Jealous_ 'cos he got _prettier_ than you? 'Cos he got_ bigger boobs_ than you? Killed him off 'cos ya didn't want him ta get the limelight for being the _hottest _scientist 'round too?" Flack was in total asshole mode now.

"_Yes, I killed him_. _I killed him_, and I'm glad he's _dead_." The nanotechnologist resembled a rabid Chihuahua when she was mad. "He thought he could just escape and use _our _creation for his _perverted kinks_. Well, I showed him who the _real_ expert was, didn't I? Wanted a _woman's _body, did he? I _gave_ him what he _wanted_."

"You sabotaged his experiment."

"Oh, _yes_. Fucking perfectionist. Calculated _everything_ to a tee. All I had to do was reprogram _one_ phase to put him down for good. He was too weak from the new computations to move, so I watched him _thirst_ and _starve_ to death. And since he desired it so much for the world to see him as woman … I gave him _that_ too, didn't I?" Delilah smiled primly. Flack wanted to whack it off her face. Many, many times.

Stella could merely shake her head. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe all he wanted was someone to _love_ him? But of course, _you_ wouldn't know anything about _that_, would you? You're too busy loving _yourself_."

"You can't do anything to me." Delilah tucked her long hair behind her ears, snubbing Stella's last statement. "I'm too _precious_ to the FBI to be imprisoned. Look at the lengths they went to keep Adam in their service. Letting him go to that_ disgusting_ club. Letting him parade around in women's _underwear_. Look at the lengths they've gone to keep _me_ in their employment. They _know_ about my taste for heroin, and they've turned a blind eye to it all this time. You've got _nothing_ on me."

"Ohh, I don't know." Stella took a brown folder from her lap and chucked it on to the table in front of the nanotechnologist. "I'm thinking we _do_."

Flack grinned pitilessly. Delilah froze.

"You seem the kind of woman who … _values_ her _reputation_ a lot. You _did_ murder Adam to keep it. You admitted it yourself." Stella flipped open the folder, revealing two color photographs. "The way I'm seeing the whole scenario, the only reason you married Adam in the first place was because he was just a means to get to the top, wasn't he? Bet you thought he was just some _boring, old_ scientist, but he wasn't. Oh, instead he was everything that was capable of destroying your status for a _long_, long time."

Stella held up the first picture. It was a head shot of Adam in his transformed state, on the autopsy table. "Yeah, the FBI may be covering your ass and letting you suck up drugs and all kinds of crap for your _expertise_. But they're only _human_ too. They can make _mistakes_. You're a _smart_ girl, Delilah. Tell me, how are your _peers_ going to feel about finding out what Adam was like? How are they going to feel knowing his dear, _wonderful _wife _killed_ him and watched him _suffer_ before he died? I bet they don't even know about your _heroin addiction_, do they?"

Stella glanced at Flack, who looked back at her with an identical smirk on his face. "Them being such … _esteemed, indispensable_ members of society. Please, do _tell _us."

"Y- … you're _blackmailing_ me."

"We prefer ta call it _persuasive co-operation_," Flack said gleefully.

Delilah choked in her horror, grasping her throat with one hand.

"_However_." Stella slammed the photograph down onto the folder. "We're in a _good mood_ today. We'll _consider _letting you off the hook _if _…" She tapped her fingers on the table.

"You tell us how to _reverse_ the transformation process your nanotechnology caused."

Delilah was stock still in her seat for a few minutes, then angled her head. "Why do you need to know _that?_" She narrowed her eyes in distrust. "Adam's already _dead_."

Flack grinded his teeth as understanding dawned on the woman.

"_Someone else_ was changed by it. Someone you _know_." The nanotechnologist laughed cruelly. "And you actually think I'm going to _help_ you? I hope this person _dies_ too."

Flack lost control of his body.

"Flack! _NO!_"

Flack felt frantic hands over his, trying their damnest to pry them off the thin neck of the woman he was strangulating to death. His whole vision was pure white. All he saw in his mind was an ashen Danny laid on the unbending, angular steel of the CSI labs' autopsy table, dead blue eyes staring at the ceiling. From a distance, he heard the guttural voice of a frenzied man roaring wordlessly.

"_Flack!_ Let her _GO!_"

One of Stella's arm wrapped itself around his neck, stifling him. Flack started to cough. His hands constricted even more. Delilah's face was turning as blue as her eyes, her jaw sagging as she attempted to breathe in vain. A scratchy noise emitted from her throat. A forceful punch into his kidney triggered his eyes into tearing up, but his hands were indefatigable in their mission to crush the flesh in them to a bleeding pulp. He couldn't let go. Wouldn't let go.

ShehadtohelpDannyshehadto_help_him … nonono_no_ -

"What the _hell _is going on _here!_"

The pressure on his neck vanished. Two gigantic hands clamped over his wrists.

The overwhelming agony when the bones in his wrists crackled caused him to cry out.

In a flash, Flack was smashed on his back onto the table, bent over at an awkward angle by the hands still binding his wrists. Through moist eyes, he stared into the lidded, silver eyes of a gargantuan man. He hadn't felt this feeble in a long time.

"_Detective Bonasera! _I _demand_ to know what is _going on!_"

Flack closed his eyes at Chief Hillborne's enraged words. Deep inside him, he felt something wither away. His body fell limp. His hurting wrists were freed.

"Chief Hillborne, we were just interrogating a potential _suspect _-"

"He tried to _kill me!_ The _bastard_ tried to _KILL ME!_" Mrs. Kovacs' voice rang shrill with rage. "I want him _FIRED!_ _NOW!_"

Flack opened his eyes again to see the same colossal man gazing down at him. The man's hard, lined face was void of expression, but within the silver eyes was something very close to sympathy. Flack reclined where he was, brushing one hand over his forehead and eyes. His mother used to warn him about keeping his temper in rein, that someday, he was going to regret not doing so.

He wished with all his heart he had the ability to turn back the clock.

But life was a bitch like Delilah Kovacs. It never gave you what you wanted.

"_Detective Flack_."

Time to face the firing squad. Flack rolled onto his side and pushed himself upright. He straightened out his jacket and tie before he stood and faced Chief Hillborne and the others.

Hillborne's scowl contorted his face into a furious mask.

"Give me your _gun_ and _badge_."

Behind Chief Hillborne, Stella gasped aloud.

"In just this past year _alone_, I've had over _eleven_ complaints about Detective Taylor's _misbehaving_ subordinates. Three of them were for Detective Bonasera here. _Six_ of them were in regards Detective Messer … and _two_ were about _you_." He pointed crudely with his forefinger at Flack's chest. "I don't care who your _father _is, and I _don't_ care whether he's a damn _New York legend_ or not. You're _not_ going to use your name to get off easy _anymore_."

One hand thrust forward with the palm upwards.

"For what the_ hell _you've just _done_ here, I'm putting you under internal investigation to review your _suitability _to be a police officer. Until it's over, you're _suspended_. Now _give me your gun and badge_."

There was no sound in the room except for Delilah's harsh breathing. The nanotechnologist had a vindictive smile on her thin lips. Stella looked extremely pale in the sunlight. The giant who held him down stood quietly in the corner of the room, coolly observing the scene.

Gradually, Flack's features twisted into a scowl more severe than Hillborne's. He wrenched out his gun from its holster and hurled it, along with his NYPD badge, onto the table top before him.

"For your information, _Chief_ Hillborne, I've _never _abused my name to achieve _anythin'_ in life. I reached where I am today on my _own_ power, not my _father's_. I _abhor_ the fact you assumed I took advantage of my name to earn my status as a detective. And yeah," Flack glared at Delilah Kovacs with icy, blue eyes. "That _broad_ there should be the one who's _investigated_. She stashed _heroin_ in her apartment _and murdered_ her husband _and_ confessed it to both Detective Bonasera and me. If I were _you_, _Chief_ Hillborne, I'd set my _priorities_ straight."

Hillborne took Flack's gun and badge, sweeping away Flack's authority with one broad stroke of a hand on the table.

"Go home _now_."

Flack shifted his glare onto the colossal guy in the custom-made suit and macintosh. His guts told him the guy was a Fed. His wrists were still aching.

"How much they _payin' _ya, Chief?"

Hillborne was livid. "_Go home now_. Before you get _fired_."

Flack ignored him, directing his lethal gaze at Delilah.

"You can try and run as_ far_ and _fast _as ya can, but I'll_ find_ you. I found you _once_. I'll do it _again_."

Delilah shriveled visibly at his declaration.

Flack roughly shouldered his way past Hillborne, hearing Stella's concerned, "_Flack_ …" but not responding to it. He thumped the semi-open door with his foot so hard he cracked it. He stormed down the hallway to the entrance of the precinct building, his curious work colleagues wisely clearing a way for him to leave.

He stood on the steps of the precinct entrance for some time. The chilly air outside served to only make him feel colder, inside and out.

He needed to feel warm again. He needed to be with the one thing in the world that grounded him like nothing else could.

He stomped to his car, already reflecting on how he was going to break the news to Danny.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

AD Jon Turgis watched the tall homicide detective stamp to the interrogation room door, ramming shoulders with Chief Hillborne along the way. Heh, so _this _was Don Flack's boy. He was every bit the hot-tempered, proud man his old man was. Even had the pretty looks down pat.

His partner, the gorgeous Detective Bonasera, tried to reach out to him by calling his name but it was a futile effort. Jon inwardly tsked. He couldn't blame the guy for being so pissed off. After all, he was just stripped of his badge and gun and was literally told to his face he was a _pansy_ who was respected only because of his _dad_.

The blonde broad was now sinking her fangs into her next victim, figuratively speaking.

"_She_ should be suspended too! They were working _together!_"

Geez, just five minutes in the room with her and Jon felt like choking her _himself_. How the hell did that poor bastard Adam ever stand being her _husband_?

"Now, _now_, everything's settled. No need to stir up more trouble." He placed a single hand on her shoulder, effectively shutting her up. Oh sure, she put on a bravado act with everyone else, but he knew she was scared shitless of him. Heck, even the _torture masters_ back in the Middle East were scared shitless of him. He made sure it _stayed_ that way.

And the ditzy bitch already caused enough crap for Maclaren and his people. He definitely wasn't going to let her ruin this hot Greek babe's life too.

"Agent Turgis, I _apologize_ for what happened." Hillborne was such a suck up. "Detective Bonasera, I suggest you return to your labs _immediately_. Don't think you've gotten away easy. I'll be _questioning_ you later."

The female detective shot daggers at the chief with her fiery eyes. If she shoved her third fingers at Hillborne's face and told him to fuck off, he was gonna have to kneel and propose to her right then and there. And this was coming from a guy who went batshit crazy at the mere _mention_ of the word _marriage_.

Her glare was extra strong on him, but he could care less. Jon grinned back at her. She really was a beautiful creature. Maclaren was a friggin' _idiot_ for not being with her yet.

"I remember_ you_." She looked very pretty when she was infuriated.

"Heh. I sure hope ya do. I remember _you_. The Shrieking Greek Goddess." His grin widened at her expression of indignation. His heart, or what he thought was left of it, skipped a beat at her rude gesture with her middle finger at him. Hot _damn_, was this woman trying to kill him or what?

"_Detective Bonasera!_"

The Greek detective stormed out of the room without another word.

Hillborne was spluttering like a dolt.

"Ah, forget it. She's pissed off. Who wouldn't be?"

"Yes. _Yes_, as I said, I apologized for everything. Please, allow me to accommodate Mrs. Kovacs at another location until the investigation is over. For her safety."

Jon mulled over this for a second. "One a' them _witness protection_ houses, eh?"

"Yes, and I'll make sure it's stocked with whatever Mrs. Kovacs wants. Your agents will have plenty of space too."

'On _your _dime, huh? Fine. Gimme the address later and you can talk to Mrs. Kovacs here about her_ requests_."

He headed for the door, intent on searching for the young homicide detective. He snickered under his breath when he heard the blonde broad begin her rant about her specialized food and drinks. Dumbass didn't have a clue what he'd just gotten himself into.

He felt alarmed eyes on him as he plodded evenly for the police station's lobby and entry. Heh, it felt good to know he terrified even New York's finest. He wasn't so certain about terrifying Don Flack, Jr., however. That kid might appear like a pretty boy on the outside, but if he was anything worse than his old man, he wasn't somebody to be underestimated.

He caught sight of the young cop already at the driver's door of his car. In a mere dozen steps, he stood side by side with the guy. Flack was apparently daydreaming about something because it took him a whole minute to realize he was there. Flack jumped at his sudden presence, then made a acquiescent face. The detective sighed.

"Whaddayawant? Come 'ere to finish the job on my _wrists?_"

"Nah, I'm not into pretty boys. But ya mighta hit a close mark with the wrist thing."

Flack jumped again at his reply. Huh, was that _lust_ he saw in those big blue eyes? Looks like Maclaren wasn't the only kinky guy in his team, in any case.

"So, whaddaya_want?_"

"Just to tell ya, _don't give up_."

The young man stared uncomprehendingly at him. Okay, he couldn't fault the guy for not understanding either. Jon decided to take a wild swing at things.

"C'mon, kid, do I hafta go _nuclear _on ya 'fore ya get it?"

Flack's jaw dropped. The guy had nice teeth. " … You're _Nuclear Jon_," he murmured.

"Well, _hell_." Jon's voice dwindled to a dramatic whisper. "It's anything better than the _Screaming Mac Attack_."

It seemed out the young detective had one heck of a laugh too. It rang clear on the streets.

"I don't get it." Flack appeared confused, the animosity gone from his eyes. "Y-you're the one who took away all our evidence and stuff. Even if you're Mac's pal, why are you _helpin'_ us?'

"'Cos I've seen enough _fucked up crap_ to last a lifetime. Sometimes a man just hasta do _somethin'_ when he sees bad things goin' down." Jon glanced surreptitiously from side to side, studying the people and environment around them. It was already late in the afternoon, and the day was overcast. There was barely anyone on the streets, nor was there anyone in suspicious cars he could see. "I've been studyin' you and your friends too. You guys've got what it takes ta get yer friend back to his normal self. And maybe even expose this insanity 'fore it's used ta hurt people. But like I told Maclaren, it _won't _be easy."

"I know I'm under surveillance now too, but I'm gonna try and help out best I can anyway. So, _don't _quit just yet, pretty boy. It ain't over till the big-breasted man loses his fat. Tell Maclaren I'll be seein' him sometime." Jon winked at Flack, and walked off back into the police station.

He felt the young detective's eyes on him all the way until he closed the precinct entrance doors behind him.


	19. Chapter 19

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Okay, the story is about … uhm, five-eighths of the way through. It's getting kinda angsty, huh? I've never been able to write angst for long without adding humor to it. But then again, this is the first fan fiction story I've ever written anyway, heh. Thanks for the kind reviews, everyone!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 19**

"You. Got. Suspended."

Flack had his head bowed low, fingers intertwined in his cropped hair.

"You. Got _Suspended_."

Flack winced. "I'm sorry, Danny. I fucked up _bad_."

They sat next to each other on the black sofa, looking towards a glass display of Chinese antiques that included miniature kettles and cups, small porcelain vases and what looked like a row of mini terracotta soldiers standing at attention on the bottom shelf. Danny made a mental note to ask Mac about those sometime. Who'd have figured Mac had a fascination with Chinese culture too?

"Don." He squeezed the back of Flack's rigid neck affectionately. Whoa, the guy was _tense_. "What _happened?_"

Flack kept his eyes glued to the carpeted floor. "Stella and I, we had her in our hands. Told her straight what we were capable of doin' to her unless she helped us. Thought it was enough to get her on our side." Flack's hands scrunched into fists in his hair. "We were _wrong_. She was the most _foul bitch_ I ever met. She figured out what was goin' on. Said she hoped you -"

Flack kicked aggressively at the floor. "I tried ta _kill_ her. Hillborne saw the whole thing and suspended me. Took my gun and badge. _Fucker_."

Danny moved his hand onto Flack's lowered head, stroking what was left uncovered by the other man's own hands. Flack was hurting himself by grabbing his hair like that.

"C'mon, leg_go_. You're _hurtin'_ yerself." Danny gently pried open Flack's stiff fingers one by one until Flack finally stopped trying to pull out all his hair by the roots. Danny stayed hushed when Flack took his hand in both of his and repeatedly rubbed his thumbs over the knuckles. It felt kinda nice.

"My old man called me up a half hour after the whole fuck up and screwed me up on the phone all the way here. So now I don't hafta go back to work. Hillborne and the Feds probably have that scientist bitch locked up somewhere I'll never know, and we're at a dead end. _Again_." Flack's voice was raspy. "I fucked up bad."

Danny had no idea what to say. His best friend had gotten a black mark in his formerly impeccable records thanks to _him_. He felt crappier than he did on that subway shooting day. At least at that time, he was the _only_ one who was in near deep shit. Danny bit his lip.

Flack continued to massage his hand, as if it was the only thing keeping him sane. "I met Mac's informant. You wouldn't _believe_ who the hell it is. But there's only _so_ much he can do for us too."

Flack's face crumpled. "I'm sorry, Danny," he apologized once more. "It's my fault."

Danny felt a prickly wetness behind his eyes. "What are ya _talkin'_ 'bout? It's _my_ fault you ended up doin' what ya did. You got _suspended_ 'cos of _me_."

"I don't give a _flying_ _fuck_ 'bout my job! Only reason I ever went into the academy was because my old man _forced_ me to. Wants his only boy to be a great cop like _him_. _I hate it_."

Danny was taken aback at Flack's vicious confession. He sealed his fingers over Flack's, turning the clasp into a close-fitting handhold. His mouth opened to reply.

The doorbell of the apartment chimed.

Flack wouldn't release his hand. Part of Danny didn't want him to either, but he had to go see who it was at the door. He looked at his friend's disheveled and exhausted appearance. Flack was in no condition to do so.

"Don. I gotta go see who's at the door. Maybe it's Mac." He tugged softly at his held hand. Flack only let go when the doorbell rang a second time, fingers touching until Danny walked too far away for contact.

Danny peeked through the peephole. Lindsay, Stella and Hawkes stood on the opposite side of the door, waiting to be let in. Danny glanced back with a relieved smile. "It's the guys."

Flack didn't answer. His mauve jacket was haphazardly thrown on the back of the sofa. He'd yanked off his tie the moment Danny let him into the apartment; it lay on top of the jacket. His white dress shirt was open wide at the collar, revealing the top of muscular pectorals. If it weren't for the dark circles around Flack's big cerulean eyes or the downturn of his pink lips, Danny would have earnestly commented on how nice the guy looked without a jacket on and his shirt opened like that.

Danny unlatched the door and stepped back as his three co-workers entered. The two women smiled warmly at him, but Hawkes couldn't stop an audible gasp from escaping. Danny's face heated, and he folded his arms over his chest on impulse, eluding Hawkes' brown eyes. He felt naked eventhough he was wearing a long-sleeved, black v-neck sweater that was much more loose than his usual tops. It'd only hit him as he swung the door open that this was the first time since the hospital visit that Hawkes had seen him in person.

Stella greeted him and gave him a hug. The woman would probably beat the crap out of him if she knew, but Danny always thought of her as a marvelous mother figure. His own mother had never been there for him much. Stella appeared more fatigued and wan than usual.

"Flack?" she asked in muted tones.

Danny nodded. "He's … not holdin' up too good."

Stella peered past his shoulder and caught sight of Flack on the sofa. Her lips thinned into a worried line. "I'll go talk to him."

Lindsay was next in line to hug him. He presumed it was going to be really unnerving seeing her again after their illuminating conversation at her apartment. He was glad to be proven wrong.

"Hey, Danny." Her affable, genuine smile brought a smile out of him too. She lifted up a full, white plastic bag with a red dragon logo on the side. "Got enough Chinese takeout for everyone." She shook the bag mischievously at him. Ah, well, even the new girl knew about his weakness for Chinese food now.

Danny was suddenly struck with the necessity to make an apology to her. "Lindsay." She gazed attentively at him. "I'm sorry 'bout the way I acted that morning. It was just … _shocking_, ya know? I needed some time to _process_ all that."

"It's _okay_, I know." Lindsay squeezed his arm with a grin. "You still have the armadillo plushie? You can keep it. _She_ insists."

Danny's face warmed again. He was beginning to sense Hawkes' stare on him too. He was pretty certain he knew where those kind, brown eyes were settled on. Lindsay headed for the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

"Hey, _Doc_."

Hawkes glanced up with a start. Danny grinned broadly.

"I'm _up_ here." Hawkes turned bright red.

"I-I'm sorry, Danny," Hawkes stammered. "I'm, _uhm_ … well, I -" Man, the Doc was lovable when he was flustered.

"It's okay, Doc. A real _bombshell_, I know."

Hawkes' eyes inescapably wandered downwards again. "Bombshell for _sure_," he muttered in a preoccupied manner.

Oh _hoh_. Danny was getting the drift why so many women in the world craved big boobs. He had to admit it. It gave him a kick sorta like inhaling on a cigarette, back when he used to smoke. It was bad for you, but it was a feeling you just couldn't stop hungering for.

"Yeah, well, it ain't as _fun_ as it looks, 'kay? They're freakin' _awful_ on my back and neck."

Hawkes coughed. "Yes, uh … yes, big … _breasts_ will do that." The blushing ME scratched at his head for a few moments, then looked up once more and smiled. "I'm happy to see you're alright though."

Okay, that went better than Danny expected. He'd taken for granted the Doc was going to totally flip out on him and scream his head off or faint or something. He had to give Hawkes credit for reacting _much_ better than Flack or Mac or even Stella did.

"I'm okay. Bored like fuck, but I'm okay." Danny's expression became crestfallen. "I can't say the same for Flack. You know?"

Hawkes grimaced. The Doc was one of those guys who could wear a red turtleneck top and pull it off with class. "Yeah, Stella told me and Lindsay about it. IAB's going to give us a hard time for a while. Not that they _haven't _before."

The two men ambled into the living area. Stella sat close beside Flack, one arm around the homicide detective's shoulders and speaking mellifluously to him. Whatever she was saying was helping the guy to relax little by little, and Danny was grateful for it.

Lindsay turned up at Danny's side, gaining Hawkes' and his attention. "If you guys are hungry, the food's ready."

Right on time, Danny's tummy decided to make itself heard. Danny grimaced sideways at the wild growl emitting from his stomach. Hawkes chuckled while Stella lifted both eyebrows and spectacularly slanted away from Danny.

"Whoa, Danny, what do you _grow_ in that belly of yours? _Tigers?_"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Ha. Ha. I didn't eat anythin' since this morning, 'kay?"

"Well, let's _chow_ then." Stella stood up and patted Flack on one shoulder. "C'mon, Flack, some hot food'll do you good."

Lindsay smiled at Danny. She flicked at the hair partially veiling his eye and spectacles. "Like the new _haircut_. Anyone ever told you you could have been a _hairdresser?_"

Danny laughed. "That's funny, Lindsay, 'cos my Pop used to tell me that all the time. He thought it was a job I could go for if I didn't make it as a baseball player." He shrugged.

With his back turned towards Flack, Danny failed to notice the deepening scowl on Flack's face, or his clenched fists, as he watched Danny and Lindsay conversing together.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"So. Where do we go from _here_, ladies and gentlemen?"

Hawkes' inquiry was met with a bout of silence at the round kitchen table. Danny still had his mouth full from the last piece of siew mai, and he gulped it down with some tea. Lindsay had a timid smile on her lips, tapping her fingers randomly on the table top. Stella wiped her mouth with a piece of tissue paper. Flack slouched in his seat, playing with his fried noodles with a fork, glowering at nothing in particular.

"I don't know." Stella's answer was mirrored on everyone's faces, especially Danny's.

Danny played idly with the chopsticks in his hands. "Where's Mac?"

" … He's with Hillborne." Stella glanced furtively at Flack who sat opposite her. "He was adamant on seeing Mac as soon as possible for the … internal investigation."

Flack made an aggravated face. The silence lengthened.

"I went back to Flack's precinct again later this afternoon." Flack raised his head at Stella's remark. "Guess who I met there? Detective _Vicaro_."

Danny cackled. "Oh, I remember _him_. He had the hots for Aiden. She was _waaay_ outta his league."

Lindsay lifted an eyebrow, smirking minutely.

Stella also smirked, although hers was of a much more sardonic sort. "I suppose I should be _grateful_ he's not _covert_ about showing how he feels towards female police officers." She huffed. "He heard through the grapevine that Hillborne and the Feds are working together on housing and shielding a _potential witness_. Three guesses as to who the _witness_ is."

"So _IAB's_ in on the whole mess too?" Lindsay asked.

"_Hillborne_ is, as far as the gossip goes. He _is _the chief."

"In other word, the only way we'll find out where they're keeping Delilah Kovacs is either through the _FBI_ … or _Hillborne_." Hawkes looked like he wanted to punch someone.

Stella finished her tea. "Looks like it."

"_Wonderful_," Hawkes said derisively, pinching at the flesh between his eyes.

Flack started to stab brutally at the mangled remnants of his noodles.

Danny was restless, squirming in his seat. An idea was forming in his brain … a really, _really_ fucked up one. But right now, it was all they had.

"I have an plan."

Everyone shifted their gazes on him.

"Just - just _hear_ me out first, okay? _No interrupting_." Danny cleared his throat. Ohh, he had a gut feeling some people were gonna be pissed off with him when he was through. He took care not to look directly at Flack.

"I, uh … yesterday, I went out for a _walk_." Danny held up his hands defensively at the cross expressions on their faces. "It was just a _walk! _I didn't go drinkin' myself _drunk_ again or anythin', really! Lemme _finish_." He rambled on before anyone could say a word.

"Okay, I went out for a walk, to get some fresh air … and I _dunno_, I guess I wasn't lookin' 'round properly and this car … kinda … _ran me over_."

"_What?_" Flack was quite scary when he was mad.

"Luckily, I wasn't hurt 'cept for a bruised left leg. And … some bruises here and there." Danny avoided Flack's irate stare. "The thing is … the guy drivin' the car was - was _Hillborne_."

Both women gasped noisily. Hawkes could catch a hundred flies with his gaping mouth.

"_WHAT?_" Oh yeah, Flack was _fuming_ mad.

"And - and … he felt so guilty … h - he asked me _out_. To _dinner_." Danny grimaced, pressing his eyes shut. "At _Nobu_," he concluded with a very small voice.

The terrible silence in wake of his explanation was so thick it could be carved with a sword.

"That. _Sonofabitch_. _Ran you over_. And _asked you_. _Out_ on a. _Fuckin'_. _DATE_."

Danny kept his eyes squeezed close. He didn't dare to open them and see the accusation in Flack's clear blue eyes. "Yeah."

"Oh my _GOD_, what did you _say!_" Stella's voice was so shrill she sounded like a chipmunk.

Danny winced. "I - I told him … I was gonna _meet_ him there." Danny opened his eyes into slits.

Stella was going to give Hawkes a run for his money with _her_ gaping mouth. Lindsay, on the other hand, had both hands clamped across her mouth, eyes wide with astonishment. Flack was _so_ angry, all the blood was gone from his face. Danny felt like evaporating into thin air at the sharp anguish in those blue eyes.

"Oh, that's just _greaaaaaaat_." Flack shoved his seat backwards, toppling it onto its side. "First _Mac_, then _Monroe_. And now, fuckin' _Hillborne_." Flack's face warped into a visage of torment. "_Everybody_ gets a piece a' ya, don't they, Messer?"

Danny felt something fracture within him. "What the _fuck_ does that mean?"

"_I_ give _everythin'_, and ya just _take! _And these people don't even give ya _anythin'_, and yet you just _throw _yerself on them like it doesn't matter!"

Danny lunged to his feet, poking a finger into Flack's chest. "_Shit_, that is _NOT_ true!"

"Yeah. _Whatever_. Just you _livin'_ up to yer _last name_, _hahn?_" Flack kicked at the fallen chair and stormed out of the kitchen to the living room to get his jacket and tie. Danny followed him, trying to grab Flack's arm to make him stay.

"_Don_, _wait _-"

Flack violently wrenched his arm away.

"Whatever, man. You just go on your fuckin' _date_ with fuckin' _Hillborne_. _Hope you have a good time_. I'm sure he'll buy ya a _nice, diamond ring_."

The apartment door slammed in Danny's face.

Lindsay tentatively slinked out of the kitchen to see Danny sitting on the couch with his knees drawn to his chest, face obscured in his arms. His shoulders trembled.

"I'm doin' it for _you_, you stupid _bastard_," Danny uttered in a subdued, quavering voice to the man who was no longer there.

Stella and Hawkes stood at the kitchen doorway, feeling powerless and unhappy at the same time over the entire situation. As Lindsay embraced Danny in a comforting hug, Hawkes sighed heavily.

"It's going to be a _long _night."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"What's your name, sweetie?"

Flack felt a hand touching him on the back of his head. It took him back to Mac's hideout apartment where Danny was stroking him on the head the same way. He burrowed his face deeper into his folded arms.

"It's okay, you can talk to me."

Flack thought the bartender of this particular bar was nice.

"You _ain't_ sheh first lady ta say that ta me. Every lady wants ta talk to me, but nobody wants ta go further than that. _Figures_." Flack struggled to an upright pose, blearily looking at the blonde woman in her black and white uniform. What was her name again?

"You've already had _eight_ shots of whisky. I'm _not_ letting you drink anymore until you can prove to me someone's going to drive you home." She was a lot like his mother, except she was cool in a … bartender, badass way.

Flack smirked lopsidedly. "Heeey, I'ma _big boy_. I can handle it." Flack hiccupped on cue.

"C'mon. _Talk_. You look like you have a lot to say." Gertrude. Yeah, her name was Gertrude.

"Itsh complicated." Flack thrashed his arms around like a feral octopus. He almost fell off his stool and would have if Gertrude hadn't grabbed one of his arms. "You wouldn't believe any a' it anyway."

"_Try_ me." The bartender jiggled his forearm encouragingly.

"Itsh like this. I got this _buddy_, see. We've known each other for a couple a' years." Flack slumped back on the counter, disconsolate. "I'm _confushed_ 'bout 'im. One second, he's showin' all the signs there could be somethin' goin' on 'tween us. Next second, he's goin' 'round flirtin' with _everybody_ else. And _none_ a' 'em care 'bout him like _I _do." Flack let his forehead fall onto the cool surface of the bar counter. "_Sucks_."

"Oh, sweetheart, have you _talked_ with him about it?"

"Can't. He's not sheh type ta siddown and listen. 'Less I _force_ 'im. He gets mad when people do that ta 'im."

Gertrude resumed stroking his hair. It made Flack feel lots better.

"You know, sometimes, people put up walls around themselves _especially_ around people they care about. They're afraid of getting hurt by those people, see?"

Flack spoke into the counter, eyes half-closed. "I wouldn't hurt 'im."

"Uh hmm." Gertrude's melodious, rich voice was all-knowing. "So … what are _you_ doing _here_ then?"

Flack spent some time contemplating the question.

"I dunno. I just wanna drink. Got no _job_, no _friendsh_. No _nothin'_."

"I don't think that's the truth."

Flack was too washed-out to respond.

"There was this cute guy who came in here the other night. Drunk himself silly just like you too." Gertrude tsked. "Now _he_ was one with an unusual story. If he didn't tell me he was a guy, I would have thought he was a woman with one _heck_ of a pair of num-nums."

Flack's eyes opened wide.

"He told me he was involved in a nasty _explosion_ that put him in the hospital for a while. And ended up _growing_ a pair of giant breasts. He didn't even _want_ them. Honey, there're people out there who've got it _way _worse than you do. I'm sure you're just exaggerating about having no friends, gorgeous man like you."

Flack slowly raised his head. "He had dark hair? Blue eyes? … _Glasses?_"

Gertrude stopped pouring some golden beer into a mug part way to consider it. "_Hmmmm_, you got the dark hair and blue eyes _right_, but I don't remember him wearing any glasses."

The tap recommenced its dispensing of alcohol. "Anyway, he was sitting where you are now, drunk on tequila and this disgusting jerk comes around and literally _molests_ the poor guy. Can't say I blame him though. Those were some _mind-blowing _looking boobs."

Flack shot upright at all that, his buzz gone in a jiffy.

"The jerk-off wouldn't back away until one of new patrons came and saved the night, so to speak." Gertrude grinned. "Man, if she wasn't taken already, I would have been hers on the spot. Whoever her ladylove is, she's one lucky woman."

_Her ladylove? _Huh?

Gertrude took note of Flack's perplexed expression with a grin. "Oh, honey. You don't _know_, do you?" She leaned forward and whispered, "This is a _dyke_ bar."

Flack scrutinized his surroundings with narrowed eyes, scanning the entire bar that was filled with women, then looked back at Gertrude. He was the only man in the whole place.

"Well, _shit_. And here I thought I got _lucky_."

Gertrude laughed merrily at his comment.

"Don't worry, handsome, I'm sure there're _lots_ of them who'll be happy to overlook your gender."

Flack was interested to know more about the new patron who'd saved Danny's ass. Mac _had_ told him about Danny getting drunk at a bar and staying over at Lindsay's, but he sure never incorporated any details about the bar catering to _lesbians_. Huh, maybe Mac _didn't_ know either.

"So who was this chick who saved …" Flack waited for Gertrude to supply him with a name for the hot-boobed guy who'd sat on his stool that other night.

"Danny." Gertrude chewed on her lip in happy reminiscence. "She was _incredible_. The fat ass was nearly two heads taller than she was, and she just _puuuuuushed_ him around like he was a marshmellow. A really _stinky_ one, anyway. I was really impressed, seeing that she's new to the city too."

"What's her … name?"

Gertrude grinned. "Cute name. Lindsay."

Flack's head creaked to a forty-five degree angle to the left.

Lindsay was … a _lesbian?_ A _LESBIAN?_

"Got to chitchat with her when she came back to pay for Danny's tab before she drove him home or something. I think I'll pay a visit to Montana some time. If all their women are like _her_."

But … if she was a lesbian, and she was already spoken for, then … she and Danny …

Oh. _Crap._

"Are you okay? You look pale."

_Oh, crap_. Flack grimaced at the spiteful things he'd said to Danny before he stomped off in a huff that evening. He was a Goddamn _asshole_.

"I … I gotta go." Flack pulled out some bills from his wallet and handed them to Gertrude. "Keep the change, ah?"

"Thanks, sweetie." The blonde bartender had benevolent, knowledgeable eyes. "Good luck with your guy."

"Thanks." Flack made a remorseful face. "I'm gonna need it."

He thought of blue eyes overflowing with hurt. Don Flack, Jr. had a _hell_ lot of apologizing to do.


	20. Chapter 20

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: For the record, I've yet to ever dine at Nobu in NYC, so I have no idea what the layout of the place is like outside or inside. Oh, and Chipita Eagle is a real earring designer. _Magnifient_ earrings, seriously.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 20**

"Oh. _Wow_."

Danny kept his eyes stubbornly closed. "I'm _not_ lookin'."

"Danny, I am _serious_. You have _got_ to look at yourself in the mirror," Stella said.

"_No_."

Lindsay and Stella flanked Danny, who sat on a chair in front of the full-length mirror in the apartment bedroom. Stella had one arm on top of his shoulders while Lindsay laid her head on his opposite shoulder and pleaded with a high-pitched voice.

"_Pleaaaaaaaase?_"

Danny frowned in annoyance. "_No!_"

"You know, if you don't open your eyes, you're never going to see how _hot _you look in a low-cut evening gown."

"Or _magnificent_ earrings and _other_ various jewellery."

"_Or_ out of this world makeup done by _yours truly_." Uh oh, Stella was in a playful mood. That did _not_ bode well for Danny.

Danny attempted to hurdle out of the chair and make a run for it. Damn, these ladies were _strong_.

"Look, I-I don't _need_ to _see_, 'kay? Just lemme _go_ and drive me to Nobu already so I can get this _over and done with!_"

"Aww, _pleaaase_, Danny? After all the _hours_ we spent making you _pretty! _Just _look_ for a second."

Danny could literally _hear_ Lindsay pouting like a young child. He sighed considerably.

"Okay, _fine_. But _you're_ the one who owes me a drink now. And _dinner_."

Lindsay squealed. Danny opened his eyes.

_Whoa_. Whoawhoawhoawhoa_WHOA_.

Danny stared at the reflection in the mirror with lined, color shadowed eyes.

"Who's that?"

Both Lindsay and Stella rested their chins on his shoulders so they were touching cheeks.

"_That_, my dear, is _Danielle_," Stella replied.

"Danielle _Montserrat!_" Lindsay added too excitedly for his liking.

The stranger staring back at him from the mirror was attired in the _lowest_-cut, skintight dress he'd ever laid eyes on. The upper part of the dress was designed in such a way that the shoulders were bared, and it plunged at a forty-five degree angle downwards from the arms and over and under the bountiful bosoms. There, the dress was held together by a series of intricate, bronze buckles to the middle of his abdomen. From there, the dress molded to his waist and hips until it ended at the top of his shins. Slits on both sides went all the way up to the middle of the thighs, so his legs weren't so restricted.

Stella had cajoled him into wearing a freaking _wonder bra_, so the cleavage his DD-sized breasts made were a total eye-lure. The long sleeves of the dress also hid the tattoo on his right arm. Danny thought it was smart to do that, since it was a distinctive feature. He'd wanted to wear his new silver spectacles, but both Lindsay and Stella persisted in getting him to wear his black, frameless glasses instead. That ended up being a positive decision too; his eyes stood out so much more. Well, _eye_, anyway, since his hair kept draping one of them.

A black crystal choker encircled his neck from beneath his jaw to his collarbones that were more prominent than usual. Four strings of more black crystals hung from the choker at varying lengths. Danny's eyes were mostly enticed to the _huge_ clip-on earrings. Even he had to admit they were something extraordinary; they dangled all the way down to his shoulders, nearly touching them. The focal piece of the earring was a genuine onyx heart set into a frame of jet beads. Hanging under it were an assortment of jet black beads and bronze filigree ornaments.

"Those earrings are mine," Lindsay said in a pleased tone. "My mother gave them to me. Custom-made by a great earring designer called Chipita Eagle."

"They're really exquisite," Danny replied. He could definitely appreciate top quality aesthetics when he saw it. He turned to Stella. "Yer dress and choker's real nice too. Ya really dress wild when ya wanna, huh?"

Stella laughed. "I never realized how _long_ your eyelashes were until I put mascara on them." Stella's voice was tinged with amusement.

Danny's eyes trailed to his facial features in the mirror. Whoa, he also had to say, Stella did a _fine_ job. He couldn't recognize the person in the mirror at all. It was as if he was looking through a portal to a twilight zone where he really _was_ a woman and was called Danielle. And was fucking _hot_. The shiny, dark violet and brown eye shadows, not to mention the mascara plus eyeliner work, made his blue eyes sparkle as much as the crystals around his neck. What the heck did Stella do to make his lips look so vivid red and plump?

"I think my eyelashes grew a lot longer thanks to the … nanotechnology too. Among _other_ things. Hope the mascara doesn't dry them out." Danny shot an appalled look at Lindsay. "And what the _hell_ kinda name is Danielle _Montserrat?_"

Lindsay giggled. "The name of a Hollywood _actress!_"

Danny closed his eyes and groaned loudly. "Awww, you gotta be _kiddin'_ me!"

"Well, you _do_ need to have a background to suit your Danielle personality," Stella said. "What are you going to tell Hillborne when he _asks_ about you?"

Damn, he didn't think of that. "Okay, _fiiiiine_. We'll go with -" - Danny grimaced - "_Danielle Montserrat_, the _Hollywood actress_."

"The Hollywood actress who's _trying_ to _make it _in the business."

"_Heeeey_, what's _that_ mean? I think I can do pretty _good_ as a Hollywood actress!"

Lindsay giggled some more at his answer to her comment.

"You've got the look down pat, so yeah, I _do_ think you'll pull off that role _easily_." Stella became solemn. "What did you mean by the nanotechnology changing your eyelashes too?"

Danny shrugged. It made his earrings waggle and tinkle with tiny, clinking noises. "Think my body's still changing since the explosion. I mean …" He lifted his arms for their view. "Look a' them, they're _half _of what they used to be. And have ya taken a _good_ look at my _waist_ and _hips?_ I swear my hips have grown by a couple a' inches. I swear even my _neck's_ become narrower."

"So, you're _still _changing?" Lindsay was frowning slightly.

Danny shrugged again. "I guess so … maybe it's stopped, 'cos my hair's stopped growin' so fast. That's why I finally decided to trim it some." He suddenly reared up. "Well, I sure _hope_ it's _stopped_, 'cos I don't wanna be losing my _family jewels_, if ya get my meanin'."

"If worse comes to worse, you could always join the ranks of RuPaul and that Amanda Lapore and make it big as the hottest transsexual in town." Stella grinned roguishly.

Danny made a disgusted face and slapped his hands over his heart in a mock gesture of hurt. "Oh, I'm _so_ touched ya think I'm a hot transsexual. _Not_."

"Think we should test the mike again?" Lindsay asked.

She stretched out a hand to one of the buckles on his tummy. It concealed a minuscule microphone that was wirelessly connected to a receiver and some earphones in the living room with Hawkes. The poor guy had been stuck there watching television for over an hour since he got off work and came over. The women wouldn't let the Doc see him at all. Danny had the hunch Lindsay'd been trying to cop a feel since the whole makeover session began. It made him smile like an imp.

There was a hesitant knock on the bedroom door. It opened to show Hawkes in a white t-shirt, beige jacket and faded jeans. Geez, that guy looked good in _anything_.

"Don't worry, the mike works _just_ fine."

Stella smirked and mock glared at Hawkes. "You've been _spying_ on us all this time, _haven't you?_"

Hawkes merely grinned. Then his gaze landed on Danny. His brown eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Hey, Doc." Danny waved at him and gave him his winning smile.

Hawkes stared with an open mouth somewhere below his neck for a few minutes before he snapped out of his trance and blushed crimson. He brought a fist to his mouth and had a sudden violent bout of coughing.

"Uhm, I, _uh_ … I'll go start the car. It's nearly eight o'clock. We gotta go soon." Hawkes closed the door with a bang. Trampling footsteps was heard heading away from the bedroom towards the living room. They stopped for a moment, then continued further on to the apartment door and faded away with the slam of the door.

Stella and Lindsay squealed ecstatically and twiddled fingers together in some odd female-bonding custom. "_Suuucceeeeeeeeeeeeess!_"

Danny groaned out loud a second time. "_'Cuse _me, I'm _here_, ya know. I'm not just some _experiment_ or a walking pair a' _boobs_, ya know."

The two women laughed elatedly and hugged him from both sides. Stella warmly stroked his head in a motherly way.

"Welcome to the world of _women_, sweetie."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"I dunno if I can _do_ this." Danny began to get butterflies in his stomach halfway through their car ride to the Nobu restaurant on Hudson street in Tribeca.

"Danny, you're going to be _okay_." He could always count on Stella to calm him down. Something about her sternness cowed his histrionics. He stared out the window and huffed, impatient for the traffic light to turn green so they could get a move on.

One of Danny's high-heeled feet tapped erratically against the floor mat. Gyah, how did women stand wearing these kinds of shoes for _hours_? He recalled seeing a photograph of Hollywood actress Sarah Jessica Parker's feet once in one of those fashion or female gossip magazines. She'd claimed her feet became so veiny due to wearing too many high heels and tight, fancy shoes. Man, the things women would do to get some attraction. He glanced down at himself.

Well, _he_ wasn't one to talk.

He looked over at Lindsay, who was sitting in the back with him in Hawkes' 2006 Dodge Charger. Danny was flummoxed by his co-workers' fantastic rides. As far as he knew, the red, sleek car he was in right now cost at least thirty-two _thousand_ dollars. Was there some underground organization he didn't know about where CSI members got to own dream rides even on the pay they had? Wow, somebody _sign_ him up _quick_.

His red lips curved into his patented sideways smirk. Lindsay was ogling him without even realizing it.

"Hey, Montana. Take a picture. It'll _last_ longer."

Lindsay gazed blankly at him, then got out her mobile phone and captured a picture of him with the built-in camera before he could squeak out a single word. The flash lit the dim interiors of the car for a moment.

She smiled wickedly at him. "Okay."

"Y-y-you …" Danny was too shocked to react.

"Lindsay, bluetooth it to me." Stella, in the passenger seat in front of him, had _her_ mobile phone out and in hand.

"Uhm, in the interest of promoting _team cohesion _at a _troubling_ time like this, I suggest that the picture be sent to _all _of us." Hawkes, in the driver's seat with hands on the steering wheel, deliberately kept his face out of sight from the passengers in the back. "For _moral support _and _encouragement_, of course."

"Sure thing, Hawkes!" Lindsay was _way _too cheerful.

"Doc, I love you, but _don't_ make me go up there and _bust_ yer _friggin' onions_."

Hawkes snickered and peeped back. His pearly teeth gleamed in the city lights all around them. "Sorry, Danny. But you really _do_ look lovely tonight."

"Got it!" Stella giggled at the picture now in her phone.

A beeping sound indicated Hawkes' phone had received its inimitable attachment too.

Danny slumped where he sat and whined. "What is this, Gang-Up-On-Danny Night?"

"_Every_ night's Gang-Up-On-Danny Night," Stella joked.

Danny only groaned. Damnit, the traffic light was taking _forever_ to switch colors.

Another car drove up beside Hawkes' Charger. The pumped up, deafening music was causing even Hawkes' car to vibrate with the beat. It was obviously a home modified car; the supplementary spoiler in the back as well as the tasteless stickers pasted all over the car were dreadful aesthetic decisions. It was also obvious the owner of the car and his friends were just as offensive.

A young gangsta wannabe in the back clashed eyes with Danny. Instantly, the guy's two friends clambered to his side to eyeball what they evidently thought was one hot chick out on a Friday night. They quickly rolled down the window to holler their insipid opinions.

"Wooo, _babe!_ You is _smoooookin'_, hot mama!" The three idiots, and now including the driver of the vehicle, commenced wolf whistling and acting out dirty deeds with their tongues at Danny. Danny pointedly ignored them as long as half a minute. When they started making awful grunting noises, he had enough.

He rolled down his window, shoved both his third fingers at them and bellowed, "Up _yours_, _DICKWADS!_"

They lurched backwards in fright at the unpredicted intensity of Danny's vociferous retort. Studying them more closely, Danny thought they couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. Didn't mean he couldn't bust them up for being pricks. One of them, wearing a multi-colored bandanna, recovered from his scare and climbed back to his car's open passenger window.

"O-o-oh _yeah! _W-wait till you taste my _giant dick_, ya _whore!_" Tsktsk, what filthy mouths kids have these days.

Danny bared his teeth at the guy, displaying his fangs. "Yeah? Well, I got a _bigger dick _than _you_ do, _little_ _boy_. Wanna _see_ it?"

The bandanna guy blanched, mouth agape.

"Why don'tcha let a _real man _show ya what a _big dick _is, _ah? _I'm make sure ya don't _walk_ for a fuckin' _WEEK_." Danny snarled, looking like a tiger about to maul its prey.

Bandanna boy speedily rolled up his window and frantically slapped at the driver's head. "G-g-get us the _hell_ outta here, _MAN!_"

The traffic light turned green.

Hawkes stepped down on the gas. The red Dodge Charger ditched the other car with a wake of screeching wheels and a roaring engine.

"You. _Rock_."

Danny grinned at Lindsay as he rolled the window back up. Stella was laughing her head off while Hawkes' lower face was scrunched in an extreme effort not to.

"Danny. _Danny_." Stella wiped tears from her eyes. "Why don't you just join the dark side and be one of us _females_, huh?"

"I dunno, Stella. I kinda like havin' _options_ at this point, know what I'm sayin'?"

Hawkes finally gave up and broke into a snigger, joining Stella in a chorus. Danny was secretly thrilled to see Stella and Hawkes laughing so openly. It felt even better than putting those vulgar boys in their place.

Danny's grin weakened.

The only thing missing was Flack joining in on the hilarity.

"Have you guys seen Flack?" Danny asked.

"Sorry, nope, I was at the lab the whole day. Didn't see him there," Hawkes replied. Stella shook her head in answer. Lindsay gave a negative as well.

"Don't worry about him. He can take care of himself," Stella adjoined.

Danny brooded.

After a few minutes of silence, Hawkes smoothly swerved the car into an empty parking space near the restaurant. It was closer to park there than in the parking lot behind the restaurant. Stella wanted to be certain the connection between the mike and earphones were optimum as possible.

"We're lucky we came early. Looks like there's some celebrity who'll be dining at Nobu tonight too." Hawkes leaned forward on the steering wheel, inspecting the environment in front of the car inquisitively.

The highly-rated Japanese restaurant was just a few cars down the block. A crowd had gathered at the entrance, contained from totally mobbing the area by velvet ropes tied to metal stands. A red carpet was laid from the pavement till the closed front doors of the restaurant. There were even white candles and lily flowers lined along the carpet. Whoever the celebrity was, it had to be somebody pretty famous.

"This could play in our favor. People'll be too distracted by whoever it is to pay attention to you and Hillborne," Stella said to Danny.

Danny remained silent. The butterflies were causing a ruckus in his stomach again. He hated being the center of attention, especially if it was a bad situation. And _this _couldn't be any worse. He hoped to God there wasn't anyone in the mass of people who knew him.

"It's eight o'clock, Danny. You okay?" Lindsay squeezed his hand and smiled reassuringly.

Danny sucked in a breath. Well, it was now or never.

"Yeah." He directed a wobbly smile at the others. "If things get nasty, you'll come get me out, _right?_"

Stella cracked her knuckles. "I'll beat the shit of the idiot _myself_."

I love ya, Stella, Danny thought to himself.

"Wish me luck." He opened the passenger door and tentatively maneuvered himself out of the vehicle. He could feel his friends' eyes on him as he headed for the teeming entrance of Nobu. He grinned to himself, steps springy with some newfound confidence.

Tonight, Danny Messer was going to give an Oscar-worthy performance of a lifetime.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Hawkes, Lindsay and Stella held their breaths, quietly observing Danny saunter down the pavement towards the restaurant, little evening handbag in hand. This was the craziest thing they'd ever done. Seeing how nervous Danny was, Stella didn't dare to mention the possibility that Chief Hillborne might recognize him now that they were meeting in very different circumstances.

Stella nibbled on her lower lip. She hoped her choice of dress was going to help Danny. Hopefully, the other guy was going to be too busy staring at Danny's chest to notice the familiarity of his face. Stella was, however, doubtful Hillborne would identify Danny as who he really was.

After all … how many guys grew such amazing DD-cup breasts and appeared prettier than most women in less than _two weeks?_

A sudden, vigorous rapping on her window surprised her, as well as the other two occupants of the car. Stella smiled widely at the sight of Flack bending downwards to look at them from outside.

"Hey, lemme _in_, will ya?"

Hawkes unlocked the doors, and Flack agilely climbed in, instantaneously picking up a pair of ear phones and sticking them in his ears.

"Where've you _been?_" Stella inquired the young detective.

"Been busy." Stella was inwardly concerned with the abrupt reply until she swiveled back and saw the slight smile on Flack's lips. Okay, whatever he was up to couldn't have been bad.

"When he did go in?"

"Just a few minutes ago. You just missed him," Hawkes replied to Flack's question.

"Nice of you to join us," Lindsay said.

"Yeah, had things to do, ya know. Drank too much at some bar last night, but it was a good thing _Gertrude_ was nice enough to stop me from overdoing it." Flack looked meaningfully at her.

Lindsay's eyes widened. Yeah, they were certainly going to have a talk _real _soon.

Stella had also put on a pair of ear phones. She positioned the receiver between the front seats.

"Heads up, guys. The _date_ begins."


	21. Chapter 21

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ¼ add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Like, _whoa_. This is now, by far, the longest chapter in the entire story and probably will be till the end. Think of it as a special one for you all. The Nobu interiors were based on official descriptions I found online. The food ordered are also official dishes available on the Nobu menu. And please to not be drinking or eating anything while reading this one. I mean it!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 21**

Flack tapped a staccato rhythm with his feet, munching on potato chips from the bag of chips in his grasp.

"Flack, quit it," Stella said not unkindly.

"Sorry." His feet stopped their movement. His free hand started drumming on his thigh instead.

Lindsay rummaged for some chips in the bag, smiling at his hyperactivity. Flack was changing more and more into Messer by the day. She wasn't very sure whether that was a good thing or not. Could the universe really handle a second Danny without exploding into a second Big Bang?

"How'd you know we'd be here at this time anyway?"

"Thank the Doc. He called me up," Flack replied Stella.

Hawkes shrugged. Without warning, Stella pivoted to face Flack in the back seat.

"You didn't tell _Mac_ about this, _did you?_"

Flack made an extreme sardonic face. "Yeah, Stella, I _sure_ did. In fact, I even told him that I wanted to have his _babies_ and live together in a _nice, little house _with a _white picket fence _'round it. Oh, and a _doggie_ for each of us too!"

Hawkes hid his face in his arms on the steering wheel. Lindsay laughed.

Stella rolled her eyes, but smirked anyway. "Okay, I did _not_ need that imagery."

Flack's back straightened like a rod in offense. "What? Ya think I'd be _dumb_ enough to go talkin' ta Mac 'bout Danny goin' on a freakin' _date_ with _Hillborne!_ He'd probably _kill _us." Flack made another face. "He's probably fuckin' pissed off with me anyway. Like I'd be stupid 'nough to go _lookin' _fer him after what happened."

He glowered at Lindsay who was still giggling. "And I'll have _you_ know there're people out there who _want _my babies and to live with me."

"Yeah, but you better hope it's not _Mac_." Lindsay laughed some more at the peculiar imagery of Mac and Flack as a domestic couple living in a house with two dogs. Mac would _garrote_ the guy with a piano wire within _hours_.

Flack stuck his tongue out and gagged in a mock vomiting action. "Hey, the guy's _fine_ and all, but he is _not _boyfriend material."

"Not to _you_ anyway," Stella murmured to herself with a soft smile.

"Uh … guys?" Hawkes was gawking at the scene in front of them. "Is that … _Al Pacino?_"

Flack and Lindsay scrambled fast into the space between the front seats, squeezing their faces together in a haste to see the infamous actor with their own eyes. Sure enough, the man, dressed in an Armani custom suit that most likely cost in the thousands, had gotten out of a black limousine and waved at the boisterous gathering of people around him. The actor also had very stylish shades on. It was quite surreal to see the man who played the notorious role of Scarface in person, even if he was bordered by two very beefy bodyguards in suits who barred him from view most of the time.

Flack looked a little distance away from the chaos of camera bursts and wailing fans.

And saw Danny striding straight in the direction of the actor, head ducked and wholly oblivious to where he was going. Through the earphones, Flack could hear his friend muttering fretfully under his breath.

Flack grimaced in advance for the oncoming catastrophe.

"Danny, look up, _look up!_"

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The fanatical screaming coming from the people around the entrance of the restaurant was really irritating Danny. The racket was transforming the butterflies in his stomach into stampeding elephants. He bowed his head and put one hand against his ear nearest to the crowd, squinting his eyes. The blinding flashes of light was giving him a mean headache too.

He began walking faster, the heels of his shoes clicking on the pavement. He didn't want to chew over how he could walk so well in high heels when these were the first pair he'd ever worn in his life. The quicker he got into the restaurant and coaxed the address of that nanotechnologist's hideout out of Hillborne, the better.

The head-on collision with a brawny chest joggled him out of his thoughts with a yelp.

"Hey, _watch it_, babe."

Danny glanced up. He was inches away from the mug of one _ugly_ Godzilla-man of a security goon. The giant seized him by his arm and got down to propelling him back past the velvet ropes into the horde of people.

"_Wait_. Let her through."

The bodyguard grunted and manhandled Danny onto the red carpet. Danny glared at him, then at the other man who instructed the goon.

Holy _shit_.

"Hi, sweetheart. Dining at Nobu as well?"

Danny's eyes widened until the whites of his eyes were visible around his irises.

_Al Pacino_. _The _Al Pacino. Was making. A _PASS_ at _HIM_.

"Y-yes …" Danny gulped. "I-I have a-a date. He's w-waitin' inside, I think."

"What a _shame_." Mr. Pacino raised one arm, smiling at him. "Tell ya something, sweetheart, a man who doesn't bother to accompany his woman before the date even starts _ain't _worth it. How about I escort you in?" The actor winked at him.

Still shell-shocked, Danny linked one of his arms with the man's, obscuring his face from the cameras now aimed at them both. Oh crap, if any of those pictures showed his face and got published in newspapers or magazines, there was no telling how much hassle he was going to be stuck in.

But then again, it wasn't everyday that the eminent Al Pacino volunteered to personally lead you into a star-studded spot of fine dining.

"T-thank you." Danny kept one hand covering his nose and mouth.

Mr. Pacino chuckled in amusement at that. "You're a _shy_ thing, aren't you?"

With the two gargantuan bodyguards behind them, they strolled down the red carpet to the grand entry doors of Nobu. As mortifying as it was, Danny also felt like leaping onto the center of the carpet and grinning like a loon while posing for all the cameras and having people shriek about him. Take _that_, ex-girlfriends who thought he wasn't good enough! _Hah!_

He couldn't help exhaling in intense relief the second they were in the sanctuary of the restaurant. Okay, celebrities who claimed their lives were difficult had a point. He speculated whether they invested in durable ear plugs and long-lasting sunglasses.

"Hey, sweetie, if your date doesn't turn out good, feel free to come to my table. See you later." Al Pacino winked at him one last time, picked up one of his hands to kiss it and ambled off to his own reserved table with his security goons.

Oh wow. He was never going to wash his left hand _ever _again.

"Danielle!"

Oh. Hillborne was there already.

"You look _wonderful!_" Hillborne wore a dark grey suit with a dark red tie embroided in gold. An Omega watch enclosed one of his wrists. His black dress shoes looked pricey too. As much as Danny disliked the guy, he had to confess the IAB chief had grand tastes. "I hope your journey here was okay? You didn't tell me where you lived, so I couldn't pick you up."

Alright, Danny. Time to be an Oscar-winner actor. Or _actress_, as his female persona was intended to be. Think ditzy, slutty blonde bimbo.

Danny giggled in a shrill tone. "Oh, it's _ooookay_, _Neviiille_. _Like_, I didn't tell you anyway." He giggled again. Ah _geez_, the guys were probably laughing their asses off in the car right now. He was immensely grateful Flack wasn't there to listen in.

Hillborne took his right hand and led him inside to a table in the middle of the restaurant's main dining area. Danny was still so astounded by the Al Pacino kiss he had no time to be squicked by Hillborne holding his hand that way. Great, the guy just had to choose the most attention-seeking position in the whole place.

If Danny recalled correctly, Nobu was designed by an architect called David Rockwell. The structural motif of the place brought to mind the picturesque scenes of Japan's countryside. The walls were heavily textured and compelled Danny to stroke one hand across a short length of one wall. One of the walls was created largely from natural river stones; one could almost sense cool river water flowing over them. The floors were smooth, veneered wood.

"How do you find the restaurant?" Hillborne asked as they sat down at their table.

"It's really _pretty_."

"That it is. Just like _you_." Hillborne grinned at him.

Danny groaned inwardly. That was seriously corny. Well, he could give the guy a break this one time. He already pitied the man just for having a dorky name like _Neville_.

A young waiter approached them and passed them the menus. Danny tolerated the man's sneaky staring for ten seconds and then glowered at the guy. The waiter cleared his throat and inquired if they needed a few minutes to decide on their meals.

Danny cut in before Hillborne could say anything in reply.

"I'd like to order now!" Whoa, he never realized his voice could go _that_ high. "I'll have the - the -"

He poked a finger randomly at the dishes on the menu. "_Oooh_, _two_ sweet black cod marinated in miso, _two_ squid pasta, _three_ helpings of rock shrimp tempura, _seven_ yellowtail sashimi with jalapeno, _two_ sashimi salads, _two_ creamy spicy crabs, _four_ salmon egg sashimi, _four_ live scallop sashimi andand_and_ -"

Hillborne's visage was becoming more and more green with each order. The waiter's bushy eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline.

"_Oooohhh_, _three_ miso rock cod in lettuce wraps! And _two_ bento boxes of chocolate soufflé cake. One for _me_ and one for _him_. And lots and lots and _lots_ of yer _best sake!_" Danny grinned with all his teeth at Hillborne and the waiter. He probably appeared like a frightening, mentally unstable, if sexy, lady. Hell yeah, if the IAB chief was going to treat him to dinner, he was gonna _suck_ him _dry_. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Both men stared disbelievingly at Danny. Hillborne's lower jaw was nearly touching the floor.

"Are - are you _sure_ you want all of that?" the waiter asked doubtfully.

"I'm a _biiiiiig girl_. I gotta, _like_, _eat_ a lot, ya know?" Danny giggled, hiding his mouth behind a hand. Then he deliberately tugged at the dress over his enormous boobs.

Both pairs of eyes were immediately attracted to his hands. Or rather, the mounds beneath them.

Hillborne coughed, then smiled weirdly. Aww, what a _sport_. "Uhm, right. _Riiight_, I'll have a … a, uh, _sea urchin tempura!_"

The waiter scribbled down their orders. "_Very well_, sir, _ma'am_. Thank you."

The man took their menus and left, but not before ogling Danny's chest another time. The first ten times he got ogled, he thought it was kinda hot. Now, it merely incensed Danny. They were just _fat_, for crying out loud. Danny and Hillborne were quiet for some time before the head of IAB spoke up.

"I-I didn't think you had such a _great_ appetite, Danielle." Hillborne was trying to hold his hand.

"_Ohhh_, I just have, _like_, a _reaaaaaally_ high metabolism, that's all." Danny flailed his hands so the other guy couldn't grab either. "I can eat like a _horse_." Ouch, talking in such a high-pitched voice was starting to hurt his voice box.

"So, tell me _more_ about yourself." Hillborne smiled at him again. The chief looked really pervy when he did so.

"Uhm, _weeeell_." Danny grinned, twisted his hands together and leaned his head sideways at a forty-five degree angle. He hoped it was an endearing, saccharine pose. "I'm an _actreeeesss_."

"_Wow_, really!" Dumbass was probably hopping around in energetic joy inside at the remark. "So what screen name do you use?"

"Danielle …" Danny flung his arms wide and nearly knocked over a waitress carrying a tray of hot miso soup. "_Danielle Montserraaaat!_"

His zealous action drew the attention of some of the other diners around them. Danny blinked when one of them glanced over and winked meaningfully at him with a big grin on his face. Hold on a sec, wasn't that guy one of those popular rappers in the industry? Some black guy called _Fifty Cent?_

"Danielle Montserrat. That really _is_ a gorgeous name." Hillborne scrutinized him for a few moments. Then, the man frowned.

"Hey. I _know_ you."

Danny's grin freezed on his face.

"Yeah, I'm _sure_ I've _seen_ you somewhere before." Hillborne scratched at his cheek, brows low in concentration. "Where _was_ it? _Hmmm_ …"

Danny felt like puking all over the table eventhough he hadn't eaten a thing. If Hillborne recognized him _now_ …

Danny paled under his makeup. He started fidgeting uncontrollably with his dress and bronze buckles, grin still frozen in place.

Hillborne snapped his fingers. "I _got_ it!"

OhGodohGodoh_Godpleasepleaseplease_ -

"_You're that hot female lead from that Italian television soap operaaaaa!_"

Danny was so euphoric at Hillborne's mistake he squealed. Like a girl.

"_Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessss! _That's, like, _SO RIGHT_." Danny clapped his hands fiercely. Oh hell, he was _worse_ than a girl.

Hillborne looked very proud of himself. "Well, I like to watch foreign television shows and movies time and again. I didn't get to watch _your_ soap a lot, but I thought you were fantastic." Hillborne finally managed to grip his right hand.

Eeweeweeweeweew_eewwww_, he was _so_ going to get Hawkes to wash that hand with industrial bleach as soon as it was all over. _Not _the left one though.

"Do you mind saying a few lines from the show? I've _always_ loved the Italian language."

Uh _oh_.

"Uh, I, _uhm_ …" Think, Danny, _think!_ "I _don't_ speak Italian outside of filmin'!"

"Huh? Really?"

"_Yeeeeesss_, it, _uh_, it helps to keep my personality apart from my television character's personality, _seee?_"

Hillborne made an approving face. "Hmm, that makes sense."

_Pheeeew_.

At that instant, the same waiter who served them earlier, plus another waitress, brought their food to the table. They also poured some green ocha and sake for both of them. The surface of their table ended up crammed to the max. The variety of dishes looked mouth-wateringly scrumptious, especially the rock shrimp tempura and creamy spicy crabs. Danny licked his lips a few times, eyes lustrous. The elephants in his tummy had been eaten by tigers, and those tigers were demanding for _more food_.

"Danie-"

Danny unashamedly plucked some of the tempura with his fingers, dunked it in the dark sauce and stuffed it all into his mouth, chomping noisily with his mouth open. Then he plucked up the live scallop sashimi, dunked those in some wasabi and soy sauce, and threw those into his yawning mouth too. He licked at his fingers and pretty much behaved like an uncouth hillbilly. For what Hillborne did to Flack, Danny was gonna make sure the guy got as much embarrassment as possible.

Unfortunately for the CSI, it wasn't working at all.

Hillborne was smiling at him. "You've got some tempura on your cheek." The IAB chief reached out and gently wiped it away with his forefinger. Then Hillborne picked another shrimp tempura, steeped it into the sauce too and held it before his lips.

"Open _wiiiiiiiiiiiide_."

Danny's expression was stuck between a fake smile and a tortured grimace.

Somebody _heeeeeeeelp meeeeee_, his mind yowled.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Back in Hawkes' Dodge Charger, the quartet of detectives were listening with keen ears to the whole conversation between Hillborne and Danny. Or to be more precise, Danielle. Flack was sharing one earpiece with Lindsay, while Stella shared one with Hawkes.

The bag of potato chips in Flack's hand had exploded under the force of Flack's crushing fist when all four of them beheld _the_ Al Pacino interlacing his arm with Danny's. All of them were so amazed at the sight, Hawkes didn't even complain about the chips flying everywhere. The chances of seeing a friend, who'd transformed from a man into a _partial woman_, getting hit on by one of the world's finest thespians was … one in a _trillion_.

Flack growled under his breath. Wonderful, _another_ Hollywood hotshot to add to his blacklist of people expressing their interests in Danny. He'd rather be shot a hundred times before any of those people on the list got to the _in_ bit.

Stella had said, "I'm. _So_. Envious. Of. Him."

Flack was feeling the sentiment, though not of the same person as Stella did. He wished _he _was the one who got to lead Danny down that red carpet instead. Flack got even more exasperated when he heard Mr. Pacino plant a kiss on Danny's hand via the earphone. At least, he _thought_ it was on Danny's hand. Flack growled again.

Danny's dialogue with Hillborne was … surreal. Flack would have assumed he was listening to a _real_ Italian woman with an eccentric accent and awfully shrill voice if it wasn't for the IAB chief calling Danny Danielle all the time. He'd laughed out loud along with the others at Danny's excessive food order. That crazy _rodent_. Danny had been inaccurate about being able to eat like a horse. Danny was more like a cute _hamster_. All adorable and harmless-looking, but once you put a heaping plate of hot food right there, _goooooodbye_ chowchow.

Lindsay had one hand across her mouth, leaning her head against the back of Hawkes' seat. She was finally breathing properly again after her asphyxiating fit of mirth at Hillborne's declaration of Danny being a lead female star on a soap opera as well as Danny's hysterical response. The irony was, Flack could totally see Danny being one. If he was a woman, of course.

"Oh geez, Hillborne's _hand feeding _him." Stella snorted.

"That was one _close_ shave. I dunno what we'd do if the guy really _did _identify him." Hawkes was collecting stray potato chips and chucking them back into the potato chip bag. Flack assisted him in doing it. It was his blunder it got everywhere anyway.

Through the earphones, they were required to listen to over a half hour of Hillborne feeding Danny and asking their friend more questions about his past as Danielle Montserrat the actress. Obviously _not_ of the Hollywood variety anymore since he was now a foreign Italian one. Flack was, however, slightly confused why a foreign Italian actress would speak like a _Beverly Hills bimbo._ Guess Danielle was a _unique_ one.

Then Danny made a comment that perked Flack up quicker than a hefty dose of caffeine.

"You, _like_, work for the police, right? I know an _amaaaaaaazin'_, _handsome_ detective called _Don Flack, Jr._"

Ohh, Flack was _all_ ears now.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Don _Flack? _Oh, I _know_ him, alright-"

Danny squealed at the top of his voice before Hillborne could continue. "_Oooooohhh_, he's _WONDERFUL_. So _ATTRACTIVE_. So _NOBLE_." He squealed again, clapping his hands. Flack was going to owe him _big_ time for this.

A large part of his brain whispered that this was, at last, his opportunity to tell somebody how he truly felt about the homicide detective. Even if it was to _Hillborne_, of all people. His co-workers would never know it was the truth and believe it was simply part of the act.

Danny slapped his hands together and pressed them against his cheek in a lovesick pose. He sighed dramatically, eyelashes aflutter. "He's _mind-blowin'_, moves like a _dancer_. He wears the best suits, _like_, ever. He's the _sweetest_ man in the _world_. With the most _beautiful_ eyes in the _universe_."

He smiled warmly. "One time, when I had to stand outside in the rain, he gave me his jacket eventhough he ended up wet. He brings me out all the time to all the places I love, because he knows I like 'em. He tolerates me when I become all bratty. He even puts up with it when I want to watch artsy movies he _hates_, because he … he-" Danny's eyes opened, and his pressed hands slipped from his cheek.

Because he _loves_ me, his mind concluded in an exultant tone.

Hillborne wasn't looking so cheerful now. "You and Don Flack, Jr. were … _dating_ once?"

Danny smiled wistfully. To the IAB chief, he was merely a female foreign actress with DD-cup breasts with whom he wanted to get lucky. To Flack … Danny was beginning to comprehend he was so much more to his best friend than he ever presumed.

"No. We're … good friends." But it could be more, if only you weren't afraid, a voice in his heart said.

"He's _not_ the nice guy you think he is, Danielle. I had to _suspend_ him because he _attacked_ a wom-"

"YOU _WHAT?_" Hillborne blanched visibly at his furious, piercing rejoinder. "YOU _SUSPENDED_ A WONDERFUL POLICE MAN LIKE _DONNY!_ HE WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING!"

The entire restaurant hushed at Danny's scream. Everyone's eyes trained on the two of them, including Al Pacino's and Fifty Cent's. The rapper had one eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

"_How dare you! Donny would never do anythin' like that!_" Danny bared his teeth, eyes narrowed. "The _ONLY_ reason he would ever attack a woman if she's a _horrible_, _murderous_ _BITCH!_"

Hillborne was grimacing apologetically at all the other diners and attempting to soothe him with placating hand movements. "Danielle, _please_-"

"_Who is this WOMAN?_"

Hillborne threw his hands up in the air. "Uhm, some - some _scientist_ working for the government, that's all. And, _okay_, I agree. She _was_ a horrible, demanding bitch." Hillborne grasped his wrists in a mollifying manner. "Please don't be upset anymore, okay? You're scaring some of the patrons."

Danny prolonged his vexation, but privately, he was dancing the Macarena. Yes! Work it just a _biiiit_ more, Messer.

"_I want a chat with her_."

Hillborne sputtered. "Uh, that's … that's not _possib_-"

"What do you mean that's not _possible? _Don't you _care_ 'bout me?" Danny pouted, thrusting his lower lip out and blinking his blue eyes rapidly. "Don't you want me to be _happy?_"

Hillborne sent him a nervous, appeasing smile. "Y-yes, of-of _course_ I want you to be happy, Danielle! It-it's just that her location can't be _revealed_-"

"Listen, _Neville_." Danny dropped his voice to his huskiest, sexiest voice. "I have an upcomin' movie where I play the role of a woman who is saved by a _hot, strong policeman_. Do you know what the final scene is like, _Neville?_"

Hillborne stared at him with glossy eyes. "What is it?"

Danny leaned forward, giving the IAB chief a first-class view of his cleavage. "The _hot, strong policeman_ and the heroine have _lusty, animal sex _in the witness protection house."

The perv was practically _slobbering_ from the side of his mouth.

"If you tell me where she is, we can … _act out _that final scene there, _hmm? _Don't you want to rub it in _good_ that she's _not_ as pretty or hot as _I_ am, hmmmm?"

Hillborne looked like he'd just hit the ultimate jackpot. And was _swimming_ in it.

"O-o-_okay_."

Danny grinned, fangs glinting in the restaurant's lighting. Damn, he was _good_.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack had a stupid, broad grin splitting his face from ear to ear throughout Danny's entire burbling about him. Danny didn't know he was there listening to everything.

Which meant … whatever Danny said about him … had to really come from his _true_ emotions.

He couldn't even give a shit that Lindsay, Hawkes and Stella were gawking at him and his stupefied, idyllic expression.

"Is he still alive or has all the ego gone to his head and _imploded_ it?" Lindsay poked at his chest and said to Stella, "I think he's turned into a drugged-out zombie."

"Whoa_whoa_, Hillborne's giving the _address!_" Hawkes jostled around in a panic for a pen and paper. "Hurry, get a pen and _paper!_"

That jerked Flack out of his stupor. He fumble through his jacket and got out his gold pen and black notebook. He flipped it open just in time to write down the address.

"Oh man. Oh _man!_"Stella was beaming. "He did it! That little brat actually _did it!_"She broke into an overjoyed laugh.

Flack sat there with a frown. "So. How are we gonna get him _outta_ there now?"

Stella abruptly stopped laughing. The four of them listened absorbedly to the new sounds filtering through the earphones.

Flack suddenly roared, "Sonofa_BITCH!_", hurled open the passenger door and charged out of the car.

"Flack! _FLACK! _Get _back_ here!" Stella scrambled out of her seat as well and chased after the running homicide detective.

"Hillborne will recognize you! _You'll blow Danny's cover!_"

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Danny dodged Hillborne's lips for the third time, grimacing in repulsion as he slapped away the man's roving hands. Fuck, just _one _glass of sake was enough to turn the dumbass into a _maniacal pervert_.

"C'mon, Danielle, what's wrong?" Danny felt one of Hillborne's hands at the buckles of his dress. Okay, this was getting _too_ much.

"_We're in a public place!_" Danny shoved hard at one of Hillborne's shoulders. The guy just bounced back! "_Quit it!_"

"You're a pretty girl, you should be _used_ to this." Oooh, Danny was gonna kick the guy between the legs a couple of times just for _that_. He twisted his face away from Hillborne's, barely avoiding the puckered lips aimed for his own.

In the distance, he sensed a huge figure standing up and heading for their table. Oh man, it was that rapper dude, Fifty Cent. Wow, he was about to experience his very first rescue by a _celebrity_.

"_Hillborne_."

The IAB chief halted in his movements at the low, venomous tone.

"_What the HELL are you doing with my GIRLFRIEND?_"

Danny gazed at the newcomer with alarmed eyes and almost died of an immediate heart attack. Hillborne screamed with fright and literally leapt six feet into the air away from Danny onto the floor.

"T-T-T…"

Danny swallowed noticeably.

"M-M-_Mac?_"


	22. Chapter 22

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Sorry for the late update, everyone. Two birthday bashes with lots of cheesecake, alcohol and coffee makes for a hyperactive Kim with little sleep and bad, sleepy days, heh. The story until now is still unbetaed, just for your info. I'm keeling over just thinking about editing this monster of a story for spelling and grammar mistakes. And, uhm, the 'thing' in this particular chapter? Let's just say I've never written such a thing before in my life, so if it's corny and terrible, my apologies.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 22**

Stella could have been a superb quarterback in some other life.

Her high-flying tackle took Flack down before he could get six feet away from the car. He thrashed about beneath her and tried to shove her to one side to get to his feet. Stella was much stronger than most people gave her credit for.

She fisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket and shook him like a rag doll. "Flack! _Listen_ to me! You can't just _barge_ in there and get Danny out! We're not even supposed to _know_ about the date!"

"_Stella!_"Hawkes' unnerved cry immobilized them in a knot of arms and legs. The former ME's face was filled with horror. "You two _get back _in here _now!_"

Stella got up, panting faintly. "What's _wrong?_"

The whites of Hawkes' eyes stood out like beacons in the semi-darkness of the street. "It's _MAC._ MAC's in there with Danny and Hillborne. _RIGHT NOW_."

Stella and Flack exchanged frantic looks, then scrambled back into the car.

Everyone stared pointedly at Flack.

"_Whaaaaaaaaaat! _I DIDN'T _TELL_ HIM!" Flack roared, face red with indignation.

Stella stuck the earphones in her ears. "Oh. My …"

She gazed at everyone with a funny face.

"Mac's calling Danny his _GIRLFRIEND_."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"I'll say it _again_. _What. The Hell. Are you doing. With my GIRLFRIEND?_"

Mac towered over the table like a infuriated deity about to wage war on the cosmos, hazel eyes wide and raging, appearing ten times his normal size in a black and white-striped suit and a dark gold tie. Danny was pinned to his seat by the intense glare.

"I-I-I … I _swear_ I d-_didn't_ know sh-she was _your_ girlfriend! _I didn't!_" Hillborne was up on his feet and had his hands over his head in a protective posture. The poor bastard looked like he wanted to sob his eyes out.

Danny's mouth was slacked open in a petrified grimace. Oh, this was bad. _THIS_ was _BAD_.

"_Not good enough, Hillborne_." Mac clutched Danny's arm and yanked him to his feet so their faces were mere inches apart.

"So _this_ is what you do while I'm _hard_ at _work_, hmmm? Go out on dinners with _other men _while I'm _slaving_ away at the office, _hmmmm?_" Mac hadn't even been _this_ angry with him when the whole Minhaus subway shooting occurred. "_You're always disobeying me_."

Danny was confounded because he had no clue whether Mac was simply acting … or was honestly speaking his mind.

"N-no, _nooooo_, my -my …" Danny wrapped his arms around Mac's waist and gazed pleadingly at his boss. "My _sweeeeet Macadamian nut_, that's not how it is!"

Mac didn't return his cuddle and kept glowering down at him. "Oh, is that _so?_"

"_Yeeesss_, y-you see, Chief Hillborne here _ran me over _with his _car_-"

"HE _RAN YOU OVER _WITH HIS _CAR!_"

Danny winced and drew back at Mac's bellow. "Y-yes, and then he asked me _out _on a _date_-"

"HE RAN YOU OVER WITH HIS CAR _AND_ ASKED YOU OUT ON A _DATE!_"

A round of sympathetic hisses and hollers sprung from all the diners surrounding them.

The waiter who served them tilted towards the waitress who'd help him dish up their food and said, "See? I _told_ you it was too good to be true for a guy like _that_ to hook a hot babe like _that!_"

The well-built Fifty Cent stalked up to Hillborne and whacked him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger.

"You knocked over this _hot chick _with your car and had the nerve to ask her out on a date after _THAT?_" Fifty Cent said in a booming voice. "Man, that's _loooow_."

"_Worst. Pick up. Ever_," Fifty Cent's companions at his table added, booing at the same time.

Danny decided this was about as advantageous a time to milk the situation as much as he could. He pulled up the dress on the left to display the large blue and black contusion on his thigh. He made his eyes tear up and his lips tremble.

"_Yeeeeess_, he ran me over with his _Mercedes_ car and I got this _aaawful_ bruise." Danny sniffled. "And-and then, he didn't even make an effort to take me to a _hospital_."

All the other diners joined Fifty Cent and his companions in their jeering. Hillborne cowered under the rapper's fierce expression and cracking of his knuckles.

Danny twirled back to Mac and lodged both palms onto Mac's chest, eyes moist and big. "And-and he _chased_ me when I tried to _get away_." Danny sniffled a few more times. "The only reason I said yes was 'cos he _scaaaared_ me. I thought he was goin' to _hurt me!_"

Fifty Cent had both his fists on his hips and advanced on the cringing IAB chief. Hillborne shook his head wildly and drunkenly rambled about how it wasn't true to everyone in the restaurant.

"N-n-n-_nooooo_, _that's not what happened! _REALLY! It's n-n-n-_not!_"

Mac embraced Danny in his arms, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from Danny. Was Mac squeezing his _butt?_

"We are going _home_. _Now_."

"Y-yes, my … my _liiively Macaque_." Mac's visage remained blank, but his eyes were twinkling.

"And _we_ are going to have a long _talk_."

'Y-y-_yes_, of course, my, uhm, my … _curly Macaroni_."

"And _we_ are going to have a _very_ long session together to deal with your _discipline_."

Danny's eyes were probably as wide as half his head. "Y-y … yes, my s-_sleek Mackerel_."

"Hey, you want me to beat this guy up for you, honey?" Fifty Cent had Hillborne in the air by the collar of his dress shirt. "It'd be a _pleasure_, believe me." The poor guy was blubbering incoherently. Man, how the heck did a guy like that end up becoming the head of _IAB?_

"N-no, it's okay. Really." Fifty Cent opened his hand and let Hillborne crumple onto the floor.

"You're lucky your date's such a nice lady," the brawny celebrity spat out.

The rapper inclined his head at Mac. "_You're_ one lucky S.O.B., man." Fifty Cent winked at Danny and returned to his table, stepping on Hillborne's hand as he left. A croaky, "_Owww_." came from the vicinity of the floor somewhere behind the table.

"Hey, sweetie, I told you he wasn't worth it, didn't I?" Al Pacino, who sat a few tables away, had his fingers tangled together on the table. He smiled at Danny. "The offer still stands."

Mac puffed up his chest, crossed his arms and pointedly stared the actor straight in the eye.

"I own an AK-47, _two _revolvers, _four_ nine millimeter pistols _and_ a steel bow with _steel-capped _arrows." Mac sent Mr. Pacino a caricature of a grin. "And I know how to use _all _of them."

Mr. Pacino was a wise man. He lifted his arms in conciliation and dragged his pressed thumb and forefinger over his tightened lips in a zipping motion.

Mac took Danny's hand in his. "_We _are _leaving_." Mac then motioned to one of the waiters. "Please pack this food and sake up for us. We'd like to take it back with us."

Two waiters hurried to the table to gather the plates that still had food and the bottles of sake. Neither dared to look Mac in the eye or even eyeball Danny for a second. Danny didn't blame them at all. When Mac was mad, he was one fucking terrifying man.

While the waiters did their work and carried the food and drinks back to the kitchen to be bagged, Hillborne hauled himself up from the floor and folded down on his seat. The IAB chief looked very lost and intoxicated.

"As for _you_."

Hillborne stared at Mac with large, glassy eyes.

"If you _ever_ hurt my girlfriend or _come after _her again," Mac promised, "I'll make sure you get a _personal_ lesson on what it feels like to have a _steel-capped arrow _stuck up your _ass_. _Capish?_"

Hillborne whimpered.

The waiter returned with two bags full of the dishes and sake. Danny and Mac each took one. Mac raised a crooked arm towards Danny.

"Shall we?"

Danny grinned shakily at his supervisor and linked arms with Mac. He knew the evening was far from over. They promenaded out of the restaurant.

At the table, Hillborne was approached by a waiter with the bill.

"Here is your _bill_, sir." The attendant placed the printed receipt onto the table before him. "That will be … _three thousand nine hundred and forty six dollars_, please." The waiter grinned.

Hillborne planted his face in the leftovers of his sashimi salad.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The second they were past the lesser crowd of people at the entrance of Nobu and out of earshot, Mac halted them in their tracks.

"Danny. You have _one minute _to explain yourself."

"Mac, you gotta _listen_ to me-"

The sound of vacillating but oncoming footsteps cut off Danny's sentence.

Frigging hell, it was _Hillborne_. That guy just didn't know when to _quit! _Danny seriously felt like using his heels to ream the dumbass a couple of new holes. Mac was his naturally calm and regimented self, but he glared severely at the unsteady chief.

"I - I _know_ where I've _really_ seen you now!" Hillborne gestured crazily with his forefinger at Danny. Danny would have crowed his head off at seeing the IAB chief in such a smashed condition in any other case. "You - you look just like that … _Messer_ guy!"

Danny's vision darkened for an eternity of an instant. His knees nearly buckled. All that was supporting him was Mac's arm.

"Are you a fucking _idiot_, Hillborne?" Danny blinked at his boss. Whoa _crap_, Mac just said the _f-word_.

"_Look_ at you. You're so damn _drunk _you can't even tell one person from another anymore. _Pathetic_." Mac maneuvered Danny so he stood in front facing forward. "Tell me, _Hillborne_, do you think my CSI, a _MAN_, would have _breasts_ like _THESE?_"

Mac then rotated him so his back was turned towards the head of IAB. "Or an incredible _ass_ like _THIS?_"

Hey, the nanotechnology didn't transform his _butt_. Wouldn't that mean …

Hillborne faltered, uncertainty causing him to sway even more on his feet. "I - uh - _sh _-"

"And _tell_ me, Hillborne, do you think I'd _kiss_ my _male_ employee like _THIS?_"

Danny gasped loudly, and Mac claimed the opportunity to envelop his lips with warm, solid ones. Danny's entire world spun right off its axis with a string-a-ling-a-ling of chubby cherubs strumming their harps and crooning clichéd love songs.

Mac's lips were thinner and much more firm than a woman's. They were dry too, but they didn't chafe his licked-wet ones at all. Mac kissed like how he handled lethal weapons; with unadulterated concentration, precision and dedication. Danny's universe minimized into nothing except Mac's lips hot and unrelenting upon his. The guy's hands was all over his torso, hips and backside; every touch felt like a surge of spine-tingling electricity throughout his whole body. He moaned audibly into Mac's mouth, eyes fluttering closed and mouth opening. Mac's tongue was even warmer than his lips. Its tip traced its way along Danny's lower lip before running over Danny's lower teeth and touching Danny's own tongue.

Oh _fuck_, Mac was no cold fish. He was a damn _pro_.

He shuddered, clinging onto Mac's jacket and trying not to collapse right there and then under Mac's sensual assault. Brilliant star bursts went off behind Danny's eyelids as their tongues wrestled together, thick, slurping sounds loud every time their lips parted. The moment Danny started feeling giddy from lack of air, Mac licked moistly down the length of his jaw and then angled his head back to nibble on the soft skin under his jaw and on his neck. Danny shuddered again, whimpering at a particularly hard bite.

He vaguely felt Mac enfolding one calloused hand behind his neck and head and the other on his lower back, bonding his body with the older man's from chest to thigh. Danny jerked intensely when Mac grinded his groin into his, moan engulfed by Mac's lips sealing themselves over his once more.

Oh, _heeeeeelloooooooo_, Mac Jr., Danny thought in a daze. And Junior wasn't really a _junior_ either.

"_SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!_"

What the hell? Was that _Flack?_

Danny broke the impassioned kiss with a twist of his head, gaping at the sight of a hopping mad, six-foot-tall homicide detective hurtling himself at them.

"DON, _WA_-"

Flack plowed into Mac with a yelled, "_GYAAARRRHH!_", knocking Danny off his feet and straight into the arms of Hawkes.

"FLACK! _STOP_ IT!" Danny had never witnessed Stella screaming and flying headlong into a brawl before.

Lindsay was on his other side, mouth covered by one of her hands. Danny and Hawkes had the same expression on their miens as she did while they gawped at Stella, Flack and Mac scuffling with each other in a writhing ball on the pavement. Flack managed to elbow Mac in the sternum. Mac got a punch into Flack's side, forcing the young detective to bend in two with a groan. Stella grabbed both of Flack's shoulders and yanked him off her CSI partner, lugging him at least a dozen feet away.

It was over in a matter of seconds.

Without a second thought, Danny rushed over to Flack, who sat on the ground with his gangly legs extended outwards and head lowered. Mac deftly bounded to his feet with a muted grunt, brushing off Lindsay's silent offer to help him up. Stella was pacing the pavement to and fro, still burning off excess adrenalin. Hawkes could merely stare at Chief Hillborne and his inebriated state.

"I told ya …" Hillborne hiccupped, thrusting a finger in Flack's direction. "I _told_ ya he was dangerous. Too _dangerous_ to be a _cop_."

Mac looked at him with shuttered eyes. "Oh, _really?_ Taken a good look at _yourself_ lately?"

He motioned with his head at his team of detectives. "You _ran over _my girlfriend with your _car_, had the audacity to _blackmail_ her into a _date_, drank yourself _stupid_, _molested_ my _girlfriend_ in _public_, unjustifiably _accused_ her of being a _man_ and one of my _employees AND suspended_ my homicide detective for an _alleged_ attack on a potential suspect who's suddenly _disappeared_ off into thin air and seems to be _permanently_ unavailable for questioning for anything."

He glanced back at the others. "I don't know about you guys, but I think it isn't _Flack_ who's the one who's too dangerous to be a cop here."

Hillborne reared up in an outrage. "D-do you _know_ who I _AM?_"

Mac wasn't in the least bit intimidated. "Oh, I know who you're _going_ to be." Mac's hazel eyes flashed. "When I _report_ you for your _inexcusable misconduct_. How _long_ do you think you're going to last as the head of IAB when I do that, hmm?"

Hillborne squeaked and turned a horrid shade of green.

"So if I were _you_, _Neville_, I'd get the _fuck_ out of here and _drop_ the investigation on Detective Flack here. And don't even _think_ about looking for my woman _ever _again." Mac grinned. "_Steel-capped arrows_."

The IAB chief shot off past the other detectives and into the distance on frantic steps. They echoed on the streets long after the guy was gone from view.

Mac confronted his team, grin instantaneously vanished. "Now, as I said before." He aimed his glare at Danny, who swallowed in anxiety. "Danny. You have one minute to explain yourself." Mac swept his deep glower over everyone, stopping on Flack, who refused to look him in the eye. "As well as the _rest_ of you."

Stella immediately came forward. "Mac, it was _my_ idea-"

"_No_."

Mac scrutinized Danny's face. Mac could see certain parts of the younger man's cheeks and jaws were glistening under the streetlight. It made his fingers and lips tingle.

"No, it was _my_ idea. All of it." Danny suddenly appeared more mature than Mac'd ever seen. "Yeah, I disobeyed your orders to not leave the apartment. And yeah, of all the bad luck, I got run over by Hillborne. But when I found out Hillborne knew where that nanotechnologist was being hidden, I knew I had to do _somethin'_." Danny sucked in a deep breath. "So, I convinced everyone to go with the plan of me wooin' Hillborne and gettin' the address outta him. _And it worked_."

Mac wanted to smile at Danny's newborn boldness. He never realized how much he missed it until the explosion happened and Danny was gone from his work life where he spent so much of his time.

"You disobeyed me anyway."

"I had to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life like _this_, Mac. This isn't _me_. _I want my life back_." Mac's eyes flickered at Danny's heartfelt statement.

Mac sighed. There was a minute of silence.

"You guys _always _cut me out of the _fun_, don't you?"

Stella's head snapped up in alarm, but her uneasy expression changed into a relieved one at Mac's warming eyes.

"What? You didn't think I'd _suspect_ anything if one of my detectives decided to check out a _wire_ and _earphones?_"

Stella blushed in guilt, but she gazed him straight in the eye. Ah, Stella, committed to the end. "I'm _sorry_, Mac. We just … didn't inform you because we knew you'd have been against all this."

Mac smirked. "Did you ever bother to _ask?_"

Stella ducked her head.

Mac sighed again, smiling fondly. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"Hawkes, Lindsay, please go home." Mac smiled benignly. "Both of you have a lot of lab work to do tomorrow for our _other_ cases, remember?"

Hawkes scratched at his head, and Lindsay grimaced. They tentatively said their farewells and walked off to Hawkes' Dodge Charger, glancing back once in a while in concern for their peers.

"Flack." The younger detective was on his feet. His handsome visage was an amalgam of disappointment and resignation. "I suggest that you accompany Danny in the apartment from tonight onwards and stay there with him. I can only hope that Hillborne would be _smart_ enough to think twice about advancing with the internal investigation. I think you and Danny have _much_ to discuss anyway."

Flack raised his head to look at him with a puzzled, shocked expression. He must have been anticipating Mac to tear him a new one for attacking him like that. Mac smiled reflectively while Flack removed his jacket and placed it around a shivering Danny's shoulders, and at how Danny smiled quaveringly at Flack.

Mac saw the accusation in Flack's hurt blue eyes, and the contrition in Danny's.

Mac's body aches reminded him of the pain in Flack's eyes just before the younger man slammed into him.

He knew the irrepressible actions of a jealous man in love when he saw it.

And what about _yourself? _Will you deny what occurred only minutes ago, what you did? Mac's mind questioned him. The only answer Mac could tell himself was that he'd lived long enough to know the difference between lust and love. Danny deserved someone extraordinarily rare with a heart big enough to bear the weight of the young man's secrets and anguish.

Mac straightened.

"My SUV isn't far from here. I'll drive you all back to your respective places." He smiled minutely. "Let's go."


	23. Chapter 23

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (it may go up later)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Okies. People who cry easily over angst … I think you may need to get the tissue papers ready. I've never written angst like this before, so, uh, I dunno if this is too much. I've tried my best to incorporate canon info into Danny's history. For all the DannyFlack fans. It's DF from here on out! Oh, and thank you for the reviews! It's great to see people are enjoying the story. Yay!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 23**

The wacky, yellow sponge thingy was dancing across the television screen again, singing about ice cream and prancing about like a poof with its pet snail called Gary.

Flack glowered with angry brows at the screen, arms folded on his chest and slumped until he was almost reclining on the couch at Mac's hideout apartment. He was really itching to squash the hell out of the talking yellow sponge with its blue eyes into a pail and stomp on it until it was flatter than a piece of paper.

Why the hell did he insist on dragging the television out from the bedroom? Oh, that's right. He'd be fucking bored to death if he didn't. And he was _not_ going to stay in that _bedroom_ where _Mac _had been in before. Not for a _second_.

Stupid sponge. Stupid ice cream. Stupid snail.

Stupid _Mac_.

Like being all gracious and driving him back eventhough Flack could have taken a cab like he did to get to Nobu in the first place was going to win his good graces.

The unwanted picture of Mac kissing Danny and fondling him materialized in his mind.

He felt a stabbing ache in his chest. Flack's snarl rumbled deep in his throat.

"Flack … uh, I've heated up some of the food from last night. You wanna eat?"

A pair of lean legs in long, khaki-colored track pants emerged into view.

"It's creamy and spicy crab. We can have the chocolate soufflé later, how 'bout that?"

Flack didn't budge an inch from his position. His eyes continued to stare forward at the television, the luminescence from it lightening the irises of his blue eyes until they were nearly clear. "Whatever."

He felt rather than heard Danny sigh in frustration. A descending weight close beside him made the couch sink a little. From the corner of his eye, he observed Danny fiddling with the wrinkles in his trousers. The only sounds reverberating in the living area was the background soundtrack of the cartoon and the pink starfish yelling for a couple of minutes.

"Are you mad at me?" Danny asked in a tiny voice.

Flack didn't reply.

They sat side by side on the couch, just like they did when Flack came to see him after he was suspended by Hillborne at his precinct. But this time, whatever closeness they had was gone. It was as if a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon had come between them. Danny toyed with the creased cloth over his knees some more.

Then, he flew off the handle.

"_It's not my FAULT!_" Danny was so used to saying it, it was like a second nature. Only here in this moment, he really meant every single word.

"Yeah?" Flack kept his attention determinedly on the television. There was no way in hell he was going to look at Danny. Those blue eyes of his would melt his defenses in an _instant._ "Seems to me like you were _enjoyin'_ yerself a _whole_ lot there."

Danny shot off the sofa and marched around the room in front of Flack, muttering furiously.

"I knew it, I _knew_ it, I _knew_ you were mad 'bout _that!_"

Flack flew off his handle too and lunged to his feet, hands tightened till the knuckles turned white.

"Well, no fucking _SHIT! _How the _hell_ d'you expect me to react to _MAC_ kissing ya!"

Danny stamped right up to him and shoved him hard on the chest. "He was doin' it to convince Hillborne of my _ROLE_, _okay!_"

Flack laughed joylessly, throwing his arms out in disbelief. "Ohhh, _oooooooohhh_, I _see_, is _that_ what you've telling' yerself since last night?"

"_Fuck it_, Don, it's not what you _THINK!_" Danny's face was livid. His blue eyes were like scorching hot flames. "There's _NOTHING_ goin' on between Mac and me!"

"Well, _do_ you want there to be somethin'? _HUH? DO YA?"_

"_NO!_" Danny's eyes glimmered wetly in the sunlight cascading through the shut windows of the living area.

Flack ran his hands wildly through his shorn hair, eyes wide with mistrust and distress.

"You're drivin' me _nuts_, Dan," he uttered in a hoarse voice. "I-I dunno what ta _think_ anymore. I keep thinkin' maybe I'm just goin' fucking _crazy_, maybe-maybe I'm just _imaginin'_ things, ya know?" He started to pace around while Danny watched him, standing still as a statue.

"I tell myself, 'Hey, ya _stare_ long enough at him, he's gonna figure it out sooner or later, right?' and 'Hey, ya _stick_ by him when things get _bad_, he'll know how ya really feel sooner or later, right, _right?_'" Flack crossed his arms over in front of him, still pacing in a rabid manner.

"So I do it and I do it and _I do it_, and _nothin'_ happens. _Everybody_ else gets to have ya. _Everybody_. And they don't even give a shit 'bout ya." Flack shook his head frenetically from side to side. "You can't see me. I'm right here and _ya can't see me_."

Danny's mien slowly crumpled. Danny soundlessly mouthed the word no as he reached out to Flack with both hands.

"_Don't TOUCH me!_"

Danny recoiled at Flack's violent shout, withdrawing his hands. His face crumpled a little more.

"I _don't_-" - Flack swallowed visibly - "I don't think I can _take_ this anymore, Danny. Everybody wants a piece of ya and it hurts like _fuck_ to see you with anybody else. Even findin' out Lindsay's a friggin' _lesbian_ hasn't made me feel better. You're fuckin' _hot_ and you don't even _know_ it." Flack rubbed at his face with his hands. "Maybe Hillborne suspending me was a good thing. Maybe … Maybe I oughta _transfer_ somewhere else."

Danny gasped piercingly.

"'Cos if I don't, I'm gonna fuckin' _die_." Almost mechanically, Flack picked up a translucent glass vase from one of the side tables beside the sofa and threw it straight at the closest wall. It shattered into a million pieces, the small shards and pebbles of glass glittering like diamonds in the sunlight on the carpet.

"Or I'll end up killin' somebody for _real_."

Flack sat down on the sofa again, switching off the television set and viciously tossing the control onto the floor. Now, the only sounds heard was Flack's ragged breathing and Danny's occasional uneven and moist inhalation of air.

Unexpectedly, all the rage drained out of Flack, leaving him fatigued like a thousand years old man whose time was long overdue. Goosebumps rose all over his body. He shivered with a pall that was settling deep within his bones. He remembered when he'd felt like this before. It was when his father had forced him to choose between two paths in his life; become a police officer or be disowned.

Flack tried to not think about whether he'd made a mistake back then too.

"I'm tired, Danny. I just … I don't know how to _trust_ anyone. I don't know _who_ I can trust." Flack closed his eyes. They were heavy with tears. "And I don't wanna be _alone_ anymore."

The silence stretched out for so long Flack believed Danny had left him on his own.

Well. Nothing new there for Don Flack, Jr.

He made up his mind to get up and leave the apartment before he keeled over and cried his eyes out.

Then he felt a warm hand stroking over his, shorter fingers entwining with his long ones.

Flack's eyes snapped open. Danny's shoulder and thigh were literally molded to his. The heat from Danny's arm warmed him even through his long-sleeved dress shirt. Their forearms were linked together too, their hands lying on top of their thighs. Flack turned his head. He was near enough that he could nuzzle Danny's cheek if he wanted.

Danny's body was right there next to him, but the spectacled CSI's mind was somewhere far, far away.

Suddenly, Flack saw himself standing before a soaring cliff, mere inches away from the serrated edge. All he saw far below was a frothing, blue-green ocean, where shadowy, ominous beasts lurked beneath the churning surface. Nevertheless, beyond them, he saw the faint glimmer of a glorious treasure at the bed of the sea. Was it a treasure worth risking everything for?

Flack continued to gaze at his friend's face in profile. If he stayed and listened to what Danny was going to say to him, he was going to leap over that cliff's edge and dive into that ocean of peril, with no way of turning back. If he stood up and left right now, he'd be escaping from the edge to safety.

But if he walked away … it was an absolute guarantee he would never earn the right to truly call that treasure his own, much less hold it in his arms.

Danny's mouth opened.

And Flack's hand closed tightly over Danny's so that, in their clasp, they were one.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"When I was a kid, my old man used to bring me fishin' and to baseball games, ya know?"

Danny's eyes were unfocused, his thoughts traveling back decades to a time when his father was still alive, and his brothers were still his brothers. A time when he was too young to understand what mortality really entailed.

"Was always just the two of us … my mum never liked either activity. I was fine with that anyway. Just me and Pop. That was what made it special." Danny felt Flack stroking his fingers with a thumb.

"Sometimes, we'd go to Battery Park to fish. Never ate any of the fish though… I mean, I wouldn't even eat a fish outta the Hudson if ya _paid_ me." Flack smiled diminutively at that. "Sometimes, we'd tour the country attendin' as many baseball games as possible, during my school holidays." Danny smiled wistfully. "He used to say I was goin' to be an amazing' pro baseball player, and how he was gonna be cheerin' me on from the top."

His smile faltered. He was quiet for a few minutes. The hurt never lessened no matter how many times he thought or spoke about his father.

"But most times … most times, he was never there. Always said he was busy. Had important work to do. Said he had to work hard to put me and my brothers Louie and Anthony through college. Wanted us to have a better future than he did." Danny closed his eyes. "I used to _laugh_ at him, ya know? 'Specially after he told me what his occupation was after I made him say it. I was young and ignorant."

Danny's eyelids lifted. He bit his lower lip.

"It took me a _long_ time to figure out what a _cleaner_ really did."

Flack glanced sharply at him. Danny didn't return his look.

"What an _irony_, huh, Don? My old man spent his life cleanin' up after gangsters and their murders … and his youngest son grew up to do 'xactly the same thing. 'Cept I do it to _apprehend_ them, not protect them."

Danny's lips downturned into an aggrieved scowl. "When I found out, I was - I was so _pissed off _at him. I couldn't believe that he spent more of his time washing up _murder_ scenes and getting rid of _corpses_ for his _employers_ than he did with mum and all of us. Sometimes, I couldn't stand him _touching _me. Sometimes, it - it _sickened_ me. Was like I could see the _blood_ all over him even when he was all clean and … and _normal_."

Danny squirmed in his seat. Flack's grasp around his hand kept him together. "I started gettin' nightmares. Started dreaming 'bout gettin' killed by the _mob_ and then seein' my dad comin' in and cleanin' us out like we were just _trash_. It got to the point I couldn't sleep at all. I was so afraid it would come true. I was so angry at him for not stoppin'. But he was my _dad_, ya know? … _I still loved him_."

Danny's voice broke. He coughed.

"He kept sayin' it _paid_ good. Said it'd help pay for my education fees and jumpstart my baseball career. I couldn't … I couldn't stand knowin' my future was goin' to be paid with the _blood _of _murdered_ people, good or bad. My dad and I began growin' apart. He knew he was losin' me. And I knew I'd lost him already long ago."

Flack's hand squeezed his.

"My oldest brother Anthony … _Tony_, Tony used to say, when ya live by the gun, you _die _by the gun. I admit it. I wasn't mad at my old man for doin' what he did because it was against the law, as much as it was because I knew, if he stuck with the mob long enough … it _never_ ended well."

Danny released a shuddering sigh.

"It didn't."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Danny … _c'mon_, son, _talk_ ta yer Pop."

A young, fourteen-year-old Danny doggedly faced away from his father, an intense frown making him look older than his tender years. They sat on a bench next to the street, two immobile figures within a constantly shifting crowd of people.

"I didn't mean ta ferget our outin' today. Things just-"

"What, ya had to go to _work_ again?"

Alessandro Messer sighed. He scratched at the back of his head, his dark brown and silver hair thin but well-combed. His youngest boy was a handful to deal with at times, just like his old man.

"Danny, ya _know_ what it's like. These are people ya don't piss off _ever_."

Danny's blue eyes were huge and beseeching. "I _don't _want ya to work for them anymore, Pop! There're _other_ ways to earn a livin'!"

Danny's father wrapped one stalwart arm around his son's thin shoulders. He had to get the boy to eat more, if the little thing wanted to play in the major leagues someday.

"I … I ain't _smart _like ya, kiddo. I never even finished _high school_. I ain't good at anythin' else. That's why I'm stuck doin' the dirty work. And _that's_ why I'm doin' it to get you and yer brothers outta this kinda life."

Alessandro gently shook Danny's frame with his hand. "I-I know it's a _bad_ thing I gotta do to earn money for the family, but it's gonna be _worth _it, you'll see." His dad grinned like a cat, and got Danny to look him in the eye. "Don'tcha wanna play in the _big leagues_, ah? Be the _star player_, ah? Ya _know_ you've _got_ what it takes."

Danny's sneakers scuffed the pavement. "Yeah."

Alessandro waved one hand dramatically through the air, staring up in wonder at a mind-blowing scene only he could see.

"I can see it already … Danny Messer, SUPERSTAR!"

Danny smiled minutely.

"And you're gonna be there on the field, standing there with yer lucky bat and the people are gonna go, '_HEY! _That's _Messer_ there! The _superstar!_' And the ball comes flyin' at ya, and _WHACK! Theeeeeeere _it goes high into the sky and you're runnin' over all the bases and the people scream, '_HOOOOOME RUUUUUUUUN!_'"

Alessandro cackled, rubbing his son's tummy affectionately and hugging his son tightly to his hulking body. The man's heart ached terribly for his youngest child. He'd already lost his older sons to the evil that stalked the streets of New York, although Danny and his wife still didn't know it. He couldn't bear the thought of his innocent Danny ending up in the gangs too.

"Pop." Danny's small hands grasped his arms with a strength that belied his size. "_Promise me you won't do it anymore_."

Alessandro was torn up inside. His little boy had his mother's beautiful eyes. He could never prevail against them.

"Son, ya know I … I can't-"

"_Promise me!_"

Danny's father wavered. "I _can't_, Danny … I-I still have another job to do. After _that_ one, okay? _Just one more_."

Danny stared at his dad with extremely wide eyes. Then, the young face scrunched up as two large tears trailed their way down Danny's cheeks.

"You always say that," Danny sobbed. "_You ALWAYS say that!_"

"Danny, _I_-"

"_You're a liar, you're a LIAR. I hate you_." Danny punched at his father's chest and shoulders with his fists, wailing in misery. "_I HATE YOU!_" He broke out of his father's embrace and ran as fast as he could away from his dad.

"Danny, no, _come back!"_

The tears in his eyes blurred his vision severely. The fact that his vision had been deteriorating made it even more difficult for him to dash forward without bumping into people. His dad would have simply been disappointed in him if Danny told him about it anyway.

Danny barely caught himself from crashing face first into a lamp post.

The ear-splitting report of a gun echoed in the air.

Danny screamed, shutting his ears with his hands. People all around him panicked, shrieking in terror and stampeding in all directions away from the source of the gunshot. He clung to the lamp post, scared stiff by the turmoil, the people knocking into him and the irrational fear that the next bullet was going to kill him.

Where was his dad, _where was his dad!_

"_DAAAAD!_"

Thin arms around the lamp post, he quickly surveyed his surroundings, frantically searching for any signs of his dad coming to look for him. Staring hard through the throng of fleeing civilians, he caught sight of the bench where he and father had sat.

His dad was sprawled on the pavement. He wasn't moving.

All of a sudden, Danny could no longer hear anything except for the rapid beating of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears. His breaths became harsher and harsher while he sprinted back to his father, fresh tears trickling down his face.

"_DAAAAAAAAAAADDY!_"

Danny halted in his tracks at the malevolent presence of the stranger in black looming over his dad's fallen body. The grinning man was wearing a thick, shin-length coat with a dark grey scarf around his neck. He had a high-priced, black suit on under the coat. The man's dark, slicked back hair and cold, malicious eyes reminded Danny of a poisonous viper. Smoke curled upwards from the barrel of the pistol he held in one gloved hand. The man's grin broadened when he saw Danny.

"Hope ya said _goodbye_ to your old man, runt."

Danny flung himself on his dad, furiously shaking his still and soundless father. Danny's hands, arms and shirt were drenched in red in a matter of moments.

"Pop, wakeupwakeup_WAKEUUUUUUUP!_"

Alessandro Messer stared up with glazed, dim eyes. A quarter of the right side of his skull was missing. Pinkish-red matter leaked from the cavernous wound onto the pavement. A giant pool of blood was growing steadily around the decimated head. Danny could feel the warm blood soaking his jeans.

"Ya see, yer old man's _dead_ 'cos he _fucked up _a job and got one of my _top guys _captured by the _cops_. If he'd cleaned up _better_, those fuckin' _CSIs_ wouldn't have found the evidence to get 'im. But it doesn't matter now. Yer old man's _paid up _for his mistake, boyo."

The assassin bent down to stare Danny in the eyes, still grinning. "_Nobody leaves the Tanglewood Boys_."

The man donned a fedora hat, tipping it at Danny in a mocking gesture. "Tell yer mother Lucio Sassone said hi. Maybe you can come over and play with my son Sonny sometime, _ah?_"

Sassone laughed callously, strolling up to a rubbish bin and chucking the pistol into it before getting into a large, black car and escaping the murder scene.

Danny kneeled helplessly on the rough pavement, seeking anyone who would help his dad, but no one was near by. And where was the _police?_! Where were they when he _needed_ them! He screamed at the top of his voice, pleading for anyone to help him.

"_HEEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_"

No one dared to approach the gory site, or the bloodied, howling boy who was utterly alone in his suffering.

"_Daddy_ …" Danny twisted his bloody hands in his father's shirt, gaping at the streaks of blood flowing down his father's slack and pallid face. "_I didn't mean it_, _I don't hate you_. Daddy, _wake up_." Danny began crying in earnest once more, laying his head onto his father's immobile chest.

In Danny's broken heart, the oncoming blaring of sirens resembled the death screech of vultures.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"_I didn't mean it _… _I don't hate you_."

Flack hugged the weeping man in his arms with all his might. He rocked them both back and forth, placing a heartfelt kiss on the top of Danny's head. He made no move to wipe away the wet trails on his own face.

"_Shh_ … it's _over_, it's _over_."

Danny's sobs were still harsh and shook the shorter man's body sporadically, but he was no longer exclaiming those two damning sentences repetitively. Flack tried his best to warm the other man's suddenly icy cold hands and feet. In fact, he felt chilly all over. Flack felt Danny start to shudder violently and continuously. His friend was going into shock.

Flack made a grab for his jacket on the back of the sofa, swiftly shrouding Danny with it and then closing his arms around his friend again. Danny was trembling so severely Flack was half-afraid he was actually having a mild seizure.

"_Shhsshhh_, it's okay. _It's okay_."

Flack resumed his gentle rocking again, sensing Danny's tears coursing down his neck and dampening the collar of his shirt. Danny kept his face buried in Flack's neck, sitting on Flack's lap and silent except for the diminishing sobs that still racked him. Flack thanked God that the endless tremors running through Danny's body were diminishing too.

They stayed that way for a very, very long time. It might have been minutes. It might have been hours. All that really mattered to Flack was that he'd chosen to jump over that cliff in his mind into that sea of monsters to claim his treasure.

And he'd made the right decision.

"The police came only two minutes after Sassone left."

Danny's voice was very husky and muffled. His eyes were swollen red and watery. At least, no more tears streamed from them. Danny's prominent nose was slightly red too. He had shifted lower onto Flack's chest, so he could hear Flack's soothing heartbeat.

"Nobody believed me when I pointed him out as the killer. He was such a recognized social figure, so the police assumed I was just tryin' to cause trouble for him to get _money_."

Flack bowed his head and leaned his chin on top of Danny's head, closing his eyes in despair. Now Flack truly understood Danny's acute distrust of the system.

"My mum forced me to drop the charges 'gainst him." Danny paused, then continued, answering Flack's unasked question. "She had an affair with him. When he'd taken what he wanted from her, he chucked her and left her with nothing."

Flack said nothing.

"My brother Louie was already in the Tanglewood Boys long before my Pop was murdered. I didn't find out until I caught him in his room a few days after Pop died and saw the tattoo on his back." Danny blinked. He nuzzled closer into Flack's firm chest. "He ended up becomin' their lackey and a morphine junkie. His addiction got so bad, mum kicked him outta the house for good. Even the _Tanglewood Boys _kicked him out eventually." Danny sighed. "He's been askin' me for money from the second I got a job and earned a livin' for myself. I stopped givin' him any when I realized he'd never stop usin' it to buy his drugs. Then I stopped talkin' to him too. "

Flack ran his fingers through Danny's hair in a monotonous, relaxing manner. "What 'bout Anthony?"

Danny was quiet for a minute or two. "He's worse," Danny answered cryptically.

Flack didn't push his friend. He'd already confided more in Flack than Flack ever believed he would in an entire life span.

"_I've never told anyone_."

Flack stilled. "'Bout what?"

Danny turned his face up so he could look at Flack. "My father's murder."

"But … you _had_ to have told the cops so they'd know about Lucio Sassone."

Danny smiled sorrowfully. It was a smile Flack hoped he'd never see on Danny again. "I couldn't _speak_ for _two months _after the incident, Don. I was so traumatized by it I literally became _mute_. I had to write down the guy's name on paper for the cops."

Flack attempted at some humor. He sorely wanted to see Danny smile again, and in a happy way. "Well, I guess oughta go lookin' for that guy, 'cos ya sure can run _on and on _like a _motor_ when ya wanna."

Flack waited apprehensively for a reaction.

The genuine smile he got from Danny was even more radiant than the sun itself.

"Fuck you."

Flack grinned widely. Oh hell _yes_, _this_ was the Danny he knew.

"And like I said before, Messer. _In. Your. Dreams_."

Danny sat upright, the jacket slipping from his shoulders. Danny was only wearing a black tank top. Flack was suddenly _very_ aware of the breasts pressed against his chest. Danny gazed fervently at him from beneath sultry, half-lidded eyes.

"That's funny. In _my_ dreams … it's always the _other way around_."

Flack inhaled sharply. Danny blushed bright red and glanced away.

_Ohhh no, you're not getting away anymore._

Flack gripped Danny's chin and tenderly pulled until Danny was face to face with him again.

"_Do you mean that, or are you just jerking my chain here?_"

Danny's visage was still red and warm, but his eyes were filled with an emotion Flack zealously hoped was the desire and love he felt within himself.

"There's somethin' I wanna jerk, but it ain't a _chain_." Danny's blush darkened. Flack was secretly pleased Danny maintained eye contact this time.

Apparently, a certain part of his anatomy down below was very please as well.

Flack's hand slid up to cup Danny's neck, relishing the smooth flesh. Flack leaned his head down so his forehead was touching Danny's. Flack felt Danny's hand on his own neck, hot as fire. He could smell the peppermint in Danny's breath. They both breathed together as one for a minute, hanging precariously on the brink.

There was only _one _kiss they could call their first. Flack had no intentions of fucking _this_ one up.

Flack slipped his moist lips over Danny's.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes (again): Ahh, if anyone's interested in the other brother, Anthony, he's not canon. He is a character I created for an upcoming CSINY story of mine, heheheh. It has no title yet, but it's a Flack-centric one with loads of angst. And of course, loads of Danny. Think of this chapter as my first testing grounds for … uh, angst.


	24. Chapter 24

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (Yep, it's gone up for this chapter)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: I'm quite red in the face right now. The following is the first porny scene I've ever written in my life. I won't blame you for laughing, honestly. Sorry for the late update too … the, uh, DannyFlack scene was kinda daunting to write at first. By the way, if you're interested in seeing some fanart for the story, feel free to go to the link in my Profile page that leads to the hompage.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 24**

The romance books always got it wrong. When they churned out descriptions like _wet_ and _juicy_ and _tasty like strawberries_, Flack reckoned he could smell the bullcrap in them from a mile away.

They were usually wrong. But not _all _the time.

Danny's lips were so much more succulent than strawberries or honey or chocolate. And they were far sweeter than any pair of lips Flack had ever kissed, even more than his very first crush whom he smooched at the green age of seven. Under the peppermint scent from his toothpaste, Flack could taste something else that was uniquely Danny, something almost spicy and yet sugary. He couldn't get enough of it.

Flack's lips parted wide, tempting Danny to do the same. Their lips still sealed, they devoured as much as they could of each other, writhing with a desperate flurry that made them gracefully fall into a lying position on the sofa. Flack was swift enough to use his elbows to support himself so he didn't fall on Danny with all his weight. He hadn't forgotten how he accidentally hurt his friend the last time that happened. This was no time to be causing pain, just pleasure.

Danny was making high-pitched, muted sounds that instantaneously made Flack harder than a rock. The CSI was also vigorously grinding his hips and groin into Flack's, the noises emitting from his throat becoming more sharp every time their cocks rubbed hard against each other. Fuck, he never knew just _one_ of Danny's whimpers could already turn him on so bad. Danny roughly entwined his fingers into Flack's hair, keeping Flack's head still as he thrust his tongue deep in Flack's mouth. His mouth full and occupied as it was, Flack nearly smiled at Danny's aggressive actions. It seemed Danny's Italian blood was boiling in full heat now.

Well, Flack had a whole lotta Italian in him too.

"Babe, _babe_, slow down."

Danny's movements were becoming almost violent. Danny was continuously thrusting his groin into his, and had folded his legs around Flack's hips. His blue eyes were screwed shut in desperation; the smaller man looked very young without his spectacles. Danny was biting his lower lip, but it didn't stop his moans from escaping. Flack got onto his knees and gripped Danny's hands, which were around his neck, with his own.

"Danny, _slow down_."

When Danny couldn't stop, Flack lay back down between the other man's legs, letting the full weight of his lower body bear down on Danny's. Danny cried out at being no longer able to move and at the intense friction over his groin as Flack sinuously moved his body up and down, keeping pressure there. Danny's eyes flickered wide open, staring up at Flack in a drugged daze. Flack grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Hell yeah, _he_ was the one who put that look there. Flack shifted his hands down to Danny's wrists and forcibly yanked Danny's arms upwards over his head. Danny gasped loudly.

"Hey, we don't hafta _rush_, 'kay?" Flack gently kissed him, then nibbled on Danny's full, lower lip. "Take it slow, wanna draw out our _first time_." Danny's body twitched in reaction. Danny closed his eyes and moaned.

Flack drew up, gazing down feverishly at the sight below him. With his arms stretched up like that, Danny's back was arched upwards, pushing out the large, soft breasts right at Flack's face. Even with the black tank top there, Flack could clearly see the nipples jutting through the fabric. Flack's eyes widened.

Danny wasn't wearing _anything_ underneath the tank top.

"_Danny_. C'mon, _look_ at me." Leaving one hand to maintain his hold on Danny's wrists, Flack used the other to tenderly brush the luxuriant hair away from Danny's face. Danny's visage was crimson red; Flack could feel the warmth coming off his cheeks before he even stroked them. After a few moments, Danny's eyes slowly opened again. They were filled with burning desire, and just as much anxiety. Flack nuzzled his face against his friend's like a cat, leaving kisses and nibbles intermittently all over Danny's until his friend relaxed.

Flack touched his forehead with Danny's.

"Will you let me …" Flack's question trailed off. His large hand sliding up towards one of the DD-sized breasts finished the rest of the question. Danny was trembling, but he licked his lips once, then replied with a passionate kiss. Flack's hands began to tremble as well.

Flack's right hand tentatively touched the left breast. His fingers tightened over the mound.

Danny's piercing groan made him let go immediately.

"I'm sorry!" Flack winced. "Did I hurt you?" Flack lightly ran his hand up and down Danny's taut side.

Danny blinked a few times. Flack thought the romance books had a point about eyes; he could really drown and spend eternity floating in Danny's blue, oceanic ones.

"N-no, it didn't hurt." Danny blinked again. His blush darkened. "They're just … s-_sensitive_."

Flack began to smile. "Sensitive in the _good_ way, huh?"

Danny's swollen lips curved up in a small, shy smile. Flack's smile broadened.

"Oh _yeeeah_."

Without warning, Flack's head dipped. His yawning mouth sucked in as much of the nearest breast as it could over the black tank top. His tongue flicked over the tip of the nipple, and he felt it harden even through the barrier of the cloth.

Danny's harsh cries, interspersed with weak curses, echoed in the silent living room, apart from the suctioning noises of Flack's mouth. A powerful shudder incessantly shook Danny's entire body while Flack suckled on the breast, massaging the other. Flack had already freed Danny's wrists and was trailing the other hand down to Danny's track pants. Danny was so overwhelmed by the incredible sensations it was all he could do to toss his head from side to side on the sofa, holding Flack's head to his chest in an unyielding grip.

"Aahh … _aaaaahhh! _Ahh, _fuck_, _aahhhh! AAHHH!_"

Flack deliberately sucked harder just to hear Danny's moans go higher. Flack wanted so badly to record the hot noises Danny was making without even knowing it. He felt like he could come just from listening to them. Flack slithered his hand under the waistband of Danny's trousers, feeling the coarse pubic hair brushing his fingers as he pushed down the track pants to Danny's thighs.

Oh hell, Danny wasn't wearing any _underwear_ either.

Flack gave the breast in front of his face a final, long lick, then lifted his head to gaze downwards at Danny's exposed groin. Danny was so hard his cock curved upwards towards his flat belly the second the constriction of his pants was removed. It leaked pre-come from its mushroom tip, glistening in the glare of the afternoon light. It was a beautiful appendage; smooth, thick and deep pink in color. Flack's tongue traced his lower lip.

Flack stroked a hand across the underside, eliciting a moan and an involuntary shove of hips from Danny. Danny's hips instinctively thrust upwards again when Flack grasped it in his hand, slickly moving his hand up and down and flicking his thumb over the sensitive head.

Danny bit the meaty part of his right hand, watching Flack with half-lidded, glossy eyes. His face was flushed, his thighs quivering. His track pants had slipped down past his knees to his ankles and bound his feet together, so Flack had a very salacious view of Danny reclined on the sofa with his knees spread wide apart in a diamond shape. Flack tugged off the trousers and resettled himself between Danny's legs, keeping the other man's legs opened out as they were.

"Uuhh, _harder _… _please_, Don." Danny rolled his hips as much as he could in his position, but got nowhere with Flack's hands pushing his thighs apart.

Flack's face broke into a ferocious grin. He'd just discovered a new kink.

Hearing Danny _beg_.

Flack ran his palms over Danny's inner thighs, savoring the firmness of the muscles beneath his hands. Flack swatted Danny's hands away from his groin when Danny tried to touch his own aching cock. He chuckled low in his throat at the obvious frustration twisting Danny's visage.

"Fuck, _DON_, lemme _move!_"

Danny suddenly surged up to an upright pose and flung himself on top of Flack, driving a loud grunt out of the homicide detective. Danny mimicked Flack's actions, pinning Flack's arms above his head. Flack laughed. Oh wow, he could _so_ get used to doing this with Danny all day.

Danny flashed his notorious smirk. "_My_ turn." The tip of his pink tongue flitted out of the corner of his mouth for a moment.

Flack laughed again, grinding his groin into Danny's. Danny threw his head back in a high moan, back arching. Flack's cock jerked in his pants at the lascivious sight. Danny was _beautiful _when he was in the uncontrollable throes of sexual passion. Flack pulled Danny down onto his chest, possessing his lips for yet another breath-stealing kiss. It was Flack's turn to shudder powerfully as Danny lithely corkscrewed his hips into his, causing lightning-fast pleasure to streak from his sheathed cock throughout his body.

Okay. That was it. Danny wanted it harder, he _got_ it.

Flack unzipped his trousers and quickly pushed it and his boxers down to his thighs. Danny gasped audibly into their kiss after the next corkscrew of his hips, and bent his head downwards to stare at Flack's uncovered cock.

"Oh _fuck_, you're a fuckin' _MONSTER_."

Flack snickered at Danny's awed and not a little frightened comment. He stroked Danny's cheek and got Danny to look at him in the eye. Flack nipped at the tip of Danny's nose.

"Heh, they don't call it the _Jackhammer_ for nothin', ya know." Flack sniggered some more at his friend's flabbergasted expression.

"_Jackhammer?"_ Danny giggled and dropped his head beside Flack's, his laugh mixed with soft groans while their throbbing erections rubbed against each other.

Flack's hands caressed the entire length of Danny's torso until they reached the round, solid globes of the CSI's bottom. He squeezed them hard, taking control of the momentum of things once more.

"Fuck _yeah_, just imagine how it's gonna _feel _when it's _inside_ ya." Holding Danny still, he thrust his hips fiercely, biting back a moan himself as their stiff cocks were squashed together between their flat stomachs. That felt _good_.

"Imagine it _stretchin'_ ya until you feel like you're goin' to _burst_, imagine it so _deep_ inside ya, you can't _breathe_ and all you can do is _pant_ and _moan_ and _scream_ and _take it _and _take it _and _TAKE IT_…"

Flack punctuated every point with a thrust, keeping Danny immobile with his hands and nibbling at Danny's earlobe. Danny's unrelenting moans started again, his panting loud and nerve-tingling in his ear. Danny's hand scrabbled at his upper arms, frenziedly seeking a handhold to anchor him in the intensifying whirlpool of sensations. Flack released his grip on his friend's buttocks and used his arms to lift Danny's upper body until those voluptuous breasts hung before his face.

Before Danny could respond, Flack wrenched the black tank top up to Danny's collarbones and enveloped one breast into his mouth, groaning at the taste of Danny's warm skin on his tongue. The smaller man's unique flavor was even stronger there.

Danny's whole body convulsed. His eyes snapped shut and his mouth opened in a soundless scream of ecstasy.

A hot wetness spread between their bellies, smoothing out Flack's increasingly rapid thrusts. Flack thought it was ironic that, in his moment of orgasm, Danny would be utterly silent. One more shove of his hips, and Flack came as well, crying out while mega starbursts erupted behind his eyelids and extreme bliss coursed through his quaking body.

Flack indistinctly felt Danny crumple on him, his face buried in the flesh between Flack's neck and shoulder. Their rough pants were synchronized, as was their movements towards each other's faces to mold each other's lips in delicate, calm kisses.

"_Fuck_."

Flack chuckled weakly. "Later. Superman needs to recharge."

Lying on top of Flack's rising chest, Danny managed a feeble cackle. The smaller man leisurely unbuttoned Flack's shirt so he could lie skin-to-skin on top of his lover. They lay on the sofa catching their breaths for a couple of minutes, Flack cuddling Danny in his arms and their supple legs intertwined.

"I've never come so _hard_ in my life. Thought my brain _exploded_."

Flack smirked, running his hand through Danny's thick hair. "Yeah, that was really _somethin'_, eh, Messer?"

Danny shifted onto his elbows, heedless of the stickiness between their bodies. He smiled fondly at the taller man under him. "Yeah. I've fucked around a lot. But I've never been _loved_ like that, _ever_."

Flack didn't comprehend why, but Danny's warmhearted confession brought stinging tears to his eyes. He crushed Danny close to him, kissing him tenderly on his temple. They continued to rest for another ten minutes or so.

Then Flack's stomach emitted a low rumble.

In the silence, it sounded like a volcano was about to go off.

Danny and Flack concurrently look at each other, then down at Flack's tummy, then back up again.

"Whoops."

Danny chuckled, pecking Flack on the lips. "C'mon, hungry boy, let's go eat." Danny sat up, stretching out his rumpled tank top to pout at the damp stains on it.

Flack mentally berated his cock for hungering more action already at the vision of Danny sitting on the sofa with nothing on but a disheveled black tank top that hardly covered the DD-sized breasts on his chest. Flack decided this sunlit scene was now officially his new top favorite sexual fantasy of all time. That is, until they did what he'd promised earlier on. Flack's mind nearly broke into gazillion pieces simply imagining the sounds Danny was going to make while he was deep inside his friend.

Wait. Make that, his best friend _and_ lover.

They stood up. Flack wiped at his stomach with Danny's track pants and zipped up his trousers.

"I'm gonna change my shirt. _And_ my pants." Danny mock glared at Flack, who merely blinked and looked innocent. "You go reheat the food."

Flack lent his arm as a brace when Danny's legs wobbled after getting to his feet. Flack snickered.

"Man, Danny, if _that_ alone tired you out this much already, how are we gonna have our _sex marathon_ without you passin' out on me after the _first_ round?"

Danny blushed and punched Flack in the shoulder. "Go and get the food ready, _dumbass_." Ah, Flack might have believed Danny really meant the insult, if it wasn't for the smile that graced Danny's lips. Flack gleefully watched Danny saunter to the bedroom. Now _that_ was one shapely bottom right there. Jennifer Lopez had _nothing_ on it.

Flack chuckled all the way to the kitchen. He even began whistling some random song as he popped the crab dish into the oven. He couldn't stop grinning his head off.

Wow. So this was what it felt like to be truly happy.

Eight minutes passed.

The timer on the oven rang, and Flack went to shut off the oven.

That was weird. Danny hadn't come out of the bedroom.

Flack smirked. Oh _hoh_, perhaps that little fiend was planning to surprise him in there with some more horizontal loving. He cackled.

Okay, he was definitely cool with that.

"_Daaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnny_."

Flack walked straight into the bedroom, anticipating some kind of shock like the other guy leaping onto him from behind the door or something.

Flack got way more than he asked for.

For a minute, he assumed Danny was playing a prank on him by lying sprawled on his side in a fetal position on the floor, his back facing the door.

"Danny? Hey, c'mon, I'm hungry. We can play jokes on each other later."

Nothing.

Flack suddenly felt a massive, icy boulder sinking in his abdomen, the same one he felt weeks ago when the explosion occurred and Flack believed it was the last time he would ever see the man he loved.

He dashed to Danny's side, deftly drawing the shorter man close to him. A dreadful twinge twisted at his heart at Danny's pale and clammy skin, and his fast, shallow breathing. No, _not again_ …

"Danny, _wake up_." Flack gently slapped at Danny's cheek. "C'mon, buddy, _don't _do this to me."

Danny moaned and stirred slightly, but stayed unconscious.

Flack pressed two fingers to the pulse in Danny's neck. He scowled. It was rapid and weak like Danny's breathing too.

Danny's blue eyes opened to slits.

"Thank _God_." Flack brushed the hair out of Danny's face. "Hey, buddy, are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Danny tried to whisper something. His eyelids fluttered close. Flack jostled his shoulders in an attempt to awaken him again. It didn't work.

Flack's own breathing escalated. Flack recognized the signs of panic in himself. He had to call the one guy who could find out what was wrong with Danny safely and _pronto_. He laid Danny back down onto the floor, scuttling to the living room to grab his mobile phone. He ran back to the bedroom and snatched the thin blanket on the bed before going to Danny's side once more.

He pressed a number, placing the phone between his ear and shoulder, elevating Danny's head and shoulders onto his thighs. Flack then draped the blanket over his friend.

The person on the other side of the line picked up.

"_HAWKES! _I don't _care_ what you're doin' right now, Danny's _collapsed_ and he needs _help! NOW!_"

Flack didn't bother to listen to Hawkes' reply. The small phone plummeted from his loosening clutch onto the carpeted floor.

"Hey, Danny, I've called Hawkes, he's comin' to help you, _don't die me_, Hawkes is _comin'_, _okay? _Hang in there, please, Danny, _don't die_."

He hugged Danny to his chest, nuzzling his face into Danny's dark brown hair.

If he lost Danny now, he'd be left with absolutely nothing. Everything that meant anything to him was right here in his arms.

Don Flack, Jr. had never been so fearful in his life.


	25. Chapter 25

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (yep, back down for this chapter)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ¼ add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Okay, you may have noticed the updates aren't quite as fast. That's because the story is nearing an end. Yep, in about … uhm, five or six chapters, I think. The last one promises to be one porntastic one. It's already intimidating me like crazy. Anyways, the story still remains unbetaed until now. So, my apologies for any errors.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 25**

Mac was standing at the window, his mien grim and discontented. The setting sun shed distorted splashes of saturated orange and purple hues onto his static figure.

Lindsay was sitting on the sofa next to Flack, cupping her face with her hands and appearing just as unhappy as her supervisor. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun on her head. One of her feet shuffled the floor.

Flack sat back on the couch, back ramrod straight, staring with wide, blank eyes at nothing. No one commented on his open shirt that exposed his flat chest and rippled tummy.

As for Stella, she leaned on the wall beside the semi-open door to the apartment bedroom, arms folded on her chest. She could hear Hawkes moving around adroitly in the room while he looked over Danny to see what had caused the CSI to suddenly fall unconscious like he did.

Stella had been at the lab with Mac working on one of their latest cases when Hawkes virtually smashed his way in through the door and slammed into their table with a painful thwack to pass Flack's panicked phonecall message. She and Mac instantaneously dropped everything and assigned some of the other lab technicians to handle or watch over their tests.

Work could wait.

Death did not.

Stella made a mental reminder to talk to Mac about giving that lead young tech at least a raise or even a promotion, for volunteering to help them with their workload so often without complaint. Chad. Yeah, that was his name.

Mac drove his SUV like a frigging psychopath, almost running over a group of teenage girls wearing clothes even Stella grimaced about. And _she_ was one who thought wearing low-cut tops to work was totally fine. Usually, Hawkes was the first to balk at such road manners, or lack thereof, due to his minor motion sickness, but the former ME didn't utter a peep. He was hardly thinking about his own discomfort.

Now, only a half hour later, the entire team was over at Mac's hideout apartment holding their breaths over the questionable fate of one of their own.

The bedroom creaked open. Stella looked in and saw Danny lying still on the bed, wrapped up in a beige blanket. His eyes were closed. He appeared exceedingly pale, and had less color than the cloth around him.

Flack instantly leapt onto his feet, stomping towards a silent Hawkes. Lindsay also stood up, while Mac pivoted and looked inquiringly at Hawkes for answers. Stella went to stand next to Hawkes, resting one hand on his shoulder.

"We need to get Danny to a _hospital_. _Now_."

Lindsay gasped. Mac's grim expression contorted into a deep scowl. Stella's hand tautened on Hawkes' shoulder. Flack halted before Hawkes, eyes glassy and moist.

"_What's wrong with him?_" Flack's fisted hands were shaky. "He was just _fine_-" Flack broke off.

Hawkes gazed with compassionate, brown eyes at the tall detective. "He's bleeding internally. He's showing all the signs; clammy pale skin, rapid pulse, and his abdomen's swelled up." Hawkes looked around at the others, mouth downturned in a powerless expression. "Without the proper equipment, I-I don't even know _where_ to begin searching for the exact source of the bleeding or stop it. We have to bring Danny to a hospital _immediately_."

Hawkes swallowed visibly. "Or he'll _die_."

Flack's eyes screwed shut and he turned away from everyone, hunched over and gripping his upper arms tightly. Mac's expression didn't change, but his hands knotted into white-knuckled fists. Lindsay looked like she was about to shed tears. Stella knew that, while Lindsay was a new member of the team, Danny was one of those people who'd grown on her over time. Danny grew on _everyone_ over time, including herself.

"If we take him to the hospital, the FBI will be on him in _minutes_." Flack's voice was gravelly and tremulous. "_I won't let those fuckin' bastards take him away and USE HIM AS A LAB RAT!_"

Hawkes' professionalism kicked into full power. "I understand, we _all_ feel the same, but Danny needs _emergency medical attention_." Hawkes squeezed Flack's forearm in empathy. "At least at the hospital, his internal bleeding can be _stopped_. We can buy him more _time_."

"But … if it's the _nanotechnology_ that's causing the bleeding …" Lindsay said. "It won't matter if we bring him to the hospital. The doctors won't have a clue what to do."

Hawkes sighed. "I know. But it's the _best _chance Danny's got right now."

"We're gonna _find_ that Goddamed bitch _right now_." Flack was buttoning up his shirt. It was an eerily calm action that contradicted the increasing rage in his big, blue eyes and low voice. "I don't _care_ how many Feds are watchin' her. I'll _mow_ 'em _all_ down to get to her if I have to."

"What if the address Hillborne gave us was _wrong?_"Stella said worriedly. She glanced at Mac. "We haven't had an opportunity to check it out." She sighed in frustration. "If it's wrong …" Stella trailed off. She couldn't complete the sentence.

"_Mac_." Surprisingly, it was Flack who turned to the head CSI. "Whadda we _do?_"

Everyone looked towards the quiet, ruminating man, seeking guidance in this bleak hour.

Mac stood there without a word for another minute, took a deep breath then stalked over to a locked wooden cabinet on the far side of the living room. He wound the key in the golden lock once, opening the ornate doors to reveal an enormous compartment packed with an astounding range of firearms and bladed armaments.

Lindsay was staring at the display with humongous eyes. "Whoa … you _weren't _kidding about owning all those weapons, were you?"

Mac smirked minusculely at her. He picked up a black nine millimeter pistol, checked it and then pitched it fluidly at Flack along with a full clip. Flack caught the gun with his left hand, then the clip after passing the gun to his right hand. Flack removed the clip from the gun to see its clip was also full.

"Mac. It doesn't have a serial number," Flack said.

Mac looked meaningfully at the younger detective. "I know."

Mac examined three more pistols, then handed one each to Stella and Hawkes. Lindsay didn't protest at not getting one. Stella, as well as Mac, had noticed the uneasiness in her eyes when Flack mentioned the lack of a serial number on the gun he received. Hawkes was not comfortable about the issue too.

"We … we don't have to _use_ these, do we?" Hawkes held the gun as if it was branding him. "We're _police officers_. Even if the FBI is responsible for what happened to Danny, we can't simply open _fire_ on them!"

"Don't worry, Doc." Flack smirked callously. "You can let _me_ do the _shootin'_." He cocked the gun. The sharp sound resonated loudly. "I promise I'll only aim between their _legs_."

"_No casualties_." Mac's tone was stern. "The _only_ reason we're using these guns instead of our official ones is to make sure we can't be _traced_ _if_ things go out of control. It's already bad enough Hillborne has us in his sights …" Mac's face twisted in disgust as he said the name. "He does _not _need more ammo to nail us."

"Danny's _life_ is on the line now. That little _brat_ had better appreciate what we're doing for him."

Stella smiled at Mac's attempt to lighten the oppressive, grave mood. In all their years together, it was always the rare moments when Mac allowed himself to really smile or crack a joke that Stella cherished most. People often forgot Mac was simply a man with multi-layered feelings and secrets beneath the detached veneer.

Flack checked that the safety was still on, pushed the clip back in and put the gun in the waistband of his trousers. He walked on long, lanky legs to the bedroom. Stella stared at the gun in her hand, then placed it on a shelf near the bedroom door. Stella followed Flack a few minutes later, anxious to see Danny up close for herself.

She stopped at the doorway at the scene of Flack kneeling at the bedside, lovingly stroking the comatose man's brown hair. Danny stirred, lips moving soundlessly. Flack tilted forward to hear what Danny was mumbling, but evidently couldn't make out the words. Flack caressed Danny's ashen cheek with his thumb, imploring Danny to say it again. When Danny stayed lifeless, Flack bowed his head and rubbed his forehead to Danny's, nestling his face against Danny's cheek.

It was an incredibly intimate act that made Stella feel like an intruder on a very private moment.

Flack lifted his head after a while and slowly spun his head to look at Stella. His eyes were puffy but dry. Stella's heart ached at the small, brave smile on Flack's haggard face.

"Do ya mind gettin' a pair of socks from his luggage? His feet are like _ice_."

Stella went to the black, zipped bag at the end of the bed and dug around for some socks. Her vision was blurry, but she found a pair swiftly nonetheless. Flack was already carefully pulling Danny into his arms, tucking the unconscious man's head under his chin and arranging the blanket folds to keep the CSI warm. Stella gently tugged the black socks up Danny's chilled feet, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear them.

When Stella was done, Flack shifted an arm under Danny's knees and effortlessly raised himself to his feet with his load. Hawkes was at the doorway.

"Mac and Lindsay are already downstairs in his SUV. He knows a shortcut from here to the house where the nanotechnologist is."

Stella nodded in acknowledgement. Hawkes stepped aside for Flack to stride through, then shadowed the tall homicide detective closely behind.

Stella was the last to leave the empty apartment. Just as she left the bedroom, she realized her official gun was still in its holster at her side. She saw the gun Mac'd given her earlier on the shelf where she left it. Staring at it, the enormity of the whole situation was beginning to hit her like a twenty-ton anvil. If things went to the crapper, not only were they going to lose Danny, they would stand to lose their jobs and even serve prison time for illegally breaking and entering an _FBI safe house_.

Not to mention what _Flack_ was capable of doing with his current mindframe. As far as the guy was concerned, he had nothing more to lose. Stella was dead certain he meant every word when he said he would do all the shooting. He had every right to be enraged.

Danny was _dying_.

And it was all due to the pride and wickedness of a single woman who was already responsible for the death of at least one person. Stella had the horrible feeling the woman's husband and Danny weren't the only victims of the dangerous technology she and her dead hubby were developing.

Stella gritted her teeth. She went up to the open artillery cabinet and caught sight of Mac's and Hawkes' official guns at the base of the compartment. She pulled out her own and placed it next to Mac's, sliding the other gun into the holster.

All bets were off now.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

The house was an ordinary, beige-colored wooden townhouse in the area of Red Hook, Brooklyn. Flack's brain was noting down all the details of the place even as he hugged Danny close to his body, his senses fine-tuned to the smallest changes in the bundled man's breathing and movement.

It was squarish in shape, with three white-framed windows on the first floor and two on the ground floor. A simple, dark brown wooden front door was directly beneath the left upper window. A short flight of terracotta steps lead to the door from undersized, black front gates. Attached to the sides of the gates and encircling the house was a low wall of bricks that marked the fence. Next to the flight of steps was a little garden filled with potted, iridescent flowers and a single willowy tree in the center.

A childhood memory popped up out of the blue. His parents had once searched for a new house to live in when he was about seven years old. They'd traveled here to this part of Brooklyn and inspected a house very similar to their destination, which was a couple of car lengths up the street from where Mac had parked the SUV. Yeah, that was it. His mum had called it a Red Hook clapperboard house. The house might very well be over a hundred years old.

Mac had shut off the lights inside and outside the car. He'd also purposely parked the car away from the street lamp so they were concealed in the shadows. There were other cars on both sides of the street, so it was safe to assume this was a populated locale. The appearance of their vehicle wouldn't be much of a surprise or great cause for suspicion. Fate was kind to them that night. There were so many cars in the area because one of the houses a little further down the road was apparently holding a party of sorts. There was a large group of people on the front lawn of that house, chatting and laughing together.

However, it was also as much a disadvantage as it was an advantage. If a shootout actually broke out between them and the FBI agents stationed in that house guarding the scientist, innocent people could get injured. Or worse, _identify_ Mac and the others. Everyone was thankful Mac had his car's windows tinted so no one could look inside.

From inside the dim interior of the car, Flack peered with narrowed eyes at the hideout house. The lights were on. Flack could see shadows flitting past the curtained windows. Flack's trigger finger itched just imagining the look of horror and fright on the bitch's face when he stormed the place.

"Danny?"

Flack felt Hawkes reach out to press his fingers against Danny's neck.

"No change. But he's not deteriorating," the former ME answered Mac.

Mac turned back to face his three CSIs and homicide detective in the back. The back seat had been folded so that there was more space to fit the four people. Flack leaned against the front passenger seat where Stella sat, with his long legs partially drawn up and supporting Danny's head and upper body. The rest of the unconscious man's body lay at a near forty-five degree angle on the car floor, feet pointing towards one corner of the car. Hawkes sat behind Mac's driver seat, so he could be near Danny at all times to check on his state. Lindsay sat opposite Flack in the cargo area, next to Danny's lower legs and feet. She had steadied Danny's legs every time the SUV hit a rocky patch along their journey.

"Alright, _listen up_." Glancing at Mac, Flack knew this was not Mac the CSI supervisor who was speaking. It was Mac the _Marine_. "Lindsay and Hawkes, you'll stay in here with Danny. Flack, Stella and I will go inside the house and deal with whoever's in there."

Mac avoided Stella's intense, questioning gaze. "We'll try our best to avoid a violent confrontation, but if that happens …" Mac looked at Lindsay. "Lindsay, I want you in the driver's seat once the three of us get out. Hawkes will monitor Danny's condition. If either of you don't get a call from me in _ten minutes_, get yourselves the _hell _out of this place and go to the _nearest hospital_. _Do you understand me?_"

Lindsay gulped inwardly. "Yes, sir."

Mac shifted his eyes to Hawkes. "Sheldon, pray that you won't have to use that gun."

Hawkes pursed his lips, eyes filled with apprehension and worry for all his friends, especially the one Flack held in his arms.

Mac looked at Flack last. "It's time."

Flack clung onto Danny for a few more seconds, then reluctantly released him over into Hawkes' open arms. His hands reflexively curled into angry fists at the loss of physical contact. The rage within him boiled to an unruly peak as the tender memory of holding Danny in his arms under such different circumstances materialized so vividly in his mind. He stretched out a hand and affectionately stroke one hand down Danny's pallid face, unmindful of who saw it. He stared hard at the man whom he'd claimed as his lover just hours before, memorizing every inch of Danny's face. Then he flung open the SUV's side door and got out, his blue eyes hurting with a prickly pain.

Mac and Stella were already outside standing by the headlights. Lindsay got out of the same passenger door Flack used and went over to the driver's door.

"Good luck, guys." Lindsay's expression was an odd combination of anxiety and hope. She sent an encouraging smile towards Flack, then hopped inside and closed the door.

"We'll go in through the back," Mac said softly. "Follow my lead, and let me handle the agents we come across first. Back me up _only_ when I say so. And, _Flack_." Mac stared him in the eye. "_No shooting _unless it's _absolutely necessary_, got it?"

Flack drew out his gun, unlocking its safety. If _absolutely necessary _meant Flack bumped into that greasy asshole of a Fed Agent Summers again and the guy was asking for it, _oh_, he could do _absolutely necessary_.

Flack bared his teeth. They gleamed in the semi-darkness.

"Don't worry, Mac. I got it."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"_WOOOO_, lookit the _jugs_ on _THAT_ babe!"

Agent Carlo Alvarez rolled his dark brown eyes as his partner, Agent Duke Summers, chucked popcorn into his gaping, grease-covered mouth and gestured at the television that was featuring some beauty pageant. Carlo never had an interest in these types of shows. He believed they showed women in a negative light and emphasized that women were only worth being loved if they were physically attractive by world standards, looked like sticks and spent thousands of dollars getting teeth that looked like bleached dentures. He also believed all this was complete bullshit television was wrongfully forcefeeding young girls and women these days.

What was the point of wasting all that money on something as fragile as _physical looks? _Eventually, even the most expensive plastic surgery would fail to stop the ravages of time. People should be making more of an effort to make themselves beautiful on the _inside_. Didn't they understand that _inner_ beauty was what made a person truly beautiful?

He thought about his wife, Rosalia, with a fond smile, ignoring the revolting chewing sounds from beside him. Sure, she was no beauty pageant queen. But she was the queen of his heart who loved him like he was a king, and that was all that mattered to him.

Unfortunately for Carlo, Duke was an asshole of a guy who believed in the total opposite of everything he did.

"_Yeeeeeeeechh_, now _THAT_ one's a _pig. _Geddoff the stage, ya ugly _MUTT!_"

Carlo glared at Duke from the corner of his eye. "You know, the good Lord says, '_Judge not, lest ye be judged_.'" Carlo grimaced as Duke shoved more popcorn into his mouth and belched loudly. "Perhaps you should look at _yourself_ first before calling somebody else a _pig_."

The cynical connotation slid off his oblivious partner like the oil all over his mouth. "Awww, _c'mon_, Alvarez. This is a fuckin' _PAGEANT_. They're _askin'_ for it!"

Carlo had to admit Duke had a valid point.

A noisy yawn from behind them drew Agent Alvarez's attention. He twisted around on the couch to see Agent Donovan Lucas slouching on a chair at the coffee table near the couch, propping his head on his hand and inches away from falling right off his seat in drowsiness. Carlo smirked in sympathy. Poor Donovan was right out of the academy and had been longing for some heart-pumping action since his graduation. Rookies were always like that. Thinking they were immortal and that being a part of some violent shootout would make them men. He couldn't blame them. Once upon a time, he was like that too.

"Hey, Lucas, why don't you just go upstairs and retire for the night, already?" Carlo asked with a smile.

Donovan blearily opened his eyes. He made a noncommittal grunt. "Boss says we gotta stay down 'ere." Their boss was, of course, Agent Turgis, who was currently upstairs with Mrs. Kovacs.

Agent Alvarez shook himself forcefully just _thinking_ about that awful thing that considered itself a pretty woman. She was possibly the best reminder of why natural, goodhearted women were really the best kind of women in the world.

"_HEY! Lucas! _Go get s'more coffee from the kitchen!" Duke hollered, not even bothering to glance away from the television.

Carlo sent Lucas an apologetic look. Lucas merely shrugged and made a bored face. Lucas was young but he was a good man. As long as he didn't end up being stuck with Summers for too long, he was going to be fine. Agent Lucas pushed himself off the chair and shuffled to the kitchen, yawning again. Carlo turned back to the television, sighing. Oh great, the _swimsuit _segment. He was _so_ going to enjoy Duke's commentary on this. _Not_.

Three minutes passed.

Duke was ripping a new one at the young, and probably underaged, model on the screen, while ogling her at the same time. Agent Alvarez expertly ignored his FBI partner and gazed in the direction of the kitchen in wariness.

That was weird. It didn't take _this_ long to get three cups of coffee. Unless Lucas actually fell _asleep_ in there. Carlo was about to get off the couch when Agent Summers yelled again.

"_HEY! LUCAS! _What's _takin'_ so long!"

There was no reply.

Agent Alvarez stood up, drawing out his gun. His partner carelessly dumped the carton of popcorn on the floor, pulling out his own weapon. He treaded cautiously towards the kitchen entrance, gun gripped tightly before him as his training taught him.

The ear-splitting scream that blasted at him shocked Carlo so badly he thought he'd jumped out of his own skin. His grasp on his gun weakened. Beside him, he heard the ringing sound of metal striking the wooden floor. Duke cursed fluently and roughly, obviously shaken by the scream as well.

In less than one-_one hundredth _of a second after the scream, a hazy figure emerged out of nowhere and barreled straight into Agent Summers, sending his rotund partner flying nearly a dozen feet in the air and precisely onto the television set. There was a reverberating crash on impact, and a funny conking sound when Agent Summers' head thumped into the wall. The television fizzed out with a spark and boom, crushed to pieces under Duke's weight. The guy was out cold on the floor.

Carlo yelped in pain at the fast blow to his right wrist. The gun fell out of his hand and clattered onto the floor. A second speedy punch to his face sent him plunging to the floor in agony. He'd been beaten _hard_ by the trainers at Quantico, but he'd never felt a blow as powerful as _that_. He lay vulnerably on the floor, staring up with slitted eyes at his attacker.

Agent Alvarez half-anticipated to see some super ninja in a black costume, and was stunned to see it was just a man in khaki trousers, a checkered shirt and long coat. The man's hazel eyes looked down at him. Carlo swore the man was trying to make a silent _apology_ with the expression in them.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ IS _GOIN' ON _HERE!"

Carlo was glad he was down for the count. His boss was a frightening force of destruction when he was mad. He distinctly heard _four_ different sets of footsteps. One belonged to Agent Turgis.

"Oh my _GOD! _It's _HIM! _He's come to _KILL MEEEEE!_ _DO_ SOMETHING, AGENT TURGIS!"

Okay. One pair belonged to the plastic woman.

"_Lay down your gun and put your hands up! NOW!_"

Carlo moved his eyes and looked at the man with the hazel eyes. Nope, he wasn't the one shouting so there was _another_ man in the place. Third person.

"_DO IT!_"

Ah. There was also _another _woman apart from Mrs. Spoilt Barbie. The fourth.

A thunk indicated his superior had put down his gun on the floor. Agent Alvarez slowly shifted his head to get a better view of the whole scenario. He frowned at the smile on Agent Turgis' face. What the?

"Maclaren." Jon guffawed. "I see your Screaming Mac Attack is as _effective_ as ever."

His assailant, Maclaren, didn't laugh along. "We need Mrs. Kovacs' help."

"What are you waiting for! _KILL THEM!_" By God, she was _irritating_.

"_Shut. Up_." Carlo literally heard the Kovacs woman wither at the fury in Agent Turgis' command. Agent Turgis turned back to face the man called Maclaren. Carlo now saw the other two strangers who'd followed this Maclaren in. One was a young man with dark, short hair and large blue eyes, aiming his gun at both his supervisor and their charge, but mostly at the blonde woman. The other was a stunning woman with a full head of wavy hair, also aiming her gun in the same direction.

"Figures you'd find this place one way or another." Jon calmly glanced over Maclaren and his cohorts. "What's goin' on? You wouldn't pull this kinda shit unless it was _bad_."

"My CSI is _dying_, Jon." Ah. This Maclaren person _personally_ knew his boss. Carlo could hear it in the way he spoke to Agent Turgis. "Please. He needs help. We have nowhere else to go." Carlo could also hear how difficult it must have been for the man to plead this way.

His superior was silent, his face an emotionless mask.

Then, the colossal man said, "They're outside in the _getaway car_, aren't they? Betcha even gave them a time limit 'fore they oughta get the fuck outta here." Agent Turgis grinned. "Call 'em." He glanced at the young man and wavy-haired woman, even winking at the lady. "Putcher guns down. I _ain't_ gonna hurt ya."

Still lying on the floor, eyes starting to flutter close, Agent Alvarez observed Maclaren taking out his phone, a very relieved light in his hazel eyes.

"Hawkes. It's clear. Bring Danny in."


	26. Chapter 26

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (yep, also back down for this chapter)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Nyohohohoh. More DannyFlack action in the next chapter! But in the mean time, here's the, uh, climax to the whole storyline. Or whatever the term is. And thank you to all the great reviews! I appreciate them!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 26**

One minute into the break-in, Lindsay was drumming her fingers nervously on the grey steering wheel, chewing on her lower lip. In the back, Hawkes was silent and motionless. Lindsay could sense the tension emanating from the other CSI right through the driver's seat.

Two minutes into the break-in, there was no discernible sign anything had happened. She swiveled around to check on the other two occupants of the vehicle. Danny was still comatose, swaddled in the beige blanket and reclining on his back on Hawkes' sturdy chest, between Hawkes' legs. The former ME also had his arms enfolded securely around Danny, wrists crossed and one hand clutching his mobile phone.

Lindsay touched Hawkes on the shoulder. He smiled at her, although his eyes were downcast.

"He comes and goes. He's holding on."

Lindsay gave Hawkes a small smile. Aiden was right. Messer _was_ a fighter through and through.

Three minutes into the break-in, Danny moaned mutedly and budged his head just a little. It was enough to make Hawkes gaze downwards and pat Danny on his head, lightly calling the unconscious man's name to see if he was awakening. Danny's sunken eyes stayed shut.

Four minutes into the break-in, Hawkes moved to the passenger seat side so he could twist his head and have a better view of the house. He moved Danny onto his side so the man could breathe easier. There was still no outward sign of a fracas in the house.

Five minutes into the break-in, two shadows darted across one of the front windows of the house. Lindsay perked up in her seat, avidly watching that window. Hawkes held his breath.

Five seconds later, Lindsay heard a muffled roar coming from the house that made her flinch. Hawkes' head appeared next to the headrest of the driver's seat.

"What the _hell_ was _that?_" Hawkes said anxiously.

Lindsay could merely shake her head.

A second later, a blurred shadow sailed past the window and a subdued crash sounded. A significant flash of light burst behind the curtains. Then, nothing.

Nearly six minutes into the break-in, Lindsay started tapping her foot erratically on the accelerator pedal. Hawkes inhaled audibly. More shadows flitted across the curtained windows. A metallic click alerted Lindsay that Hawkes had taken out his gun and unlocked the safety.

Seven minutes into the break-in, Lindsay reached for the key in the ignition. Her rising heartbeat was becoming louder and louder in her ears. Hawkes shifted restlessly. The car engine purred to life.

Seven-and-a-half minutes into the break-in, the phone in Hawkes' hand abruptly rang.

Both of them were startled out of their wits by the unexpected noise of that singer Shakira singing about having breasts as big as mountains. Lindsay couldn't help thinking Hawkes' ringtone was strangely appropriate in some way for Danny's situation. Hawkes swiftly answered the call.

His elated grin said everything to Lindsay. "That was Mac. He wants us to go in."

Lindsay sighed in intense relief and laid her forehead on the steering wheel.

"_Thank__God_."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Agent Jon Turgis settled himself on a chair at the coffee table in the living area in an unhurried manner. He'd been about to blow his top at being forced to listen to Delilah Kovacs, unbelievably a professor in nanotechnology like her late husband, whining about not being able to yak with her galpals or why the food wasn't _exactly_ like she wanted. Or why she wasn't allowed to leave the house to go shopping. Or why all the FBI agents were ugly except for Alvarez.

Jon sighed inwardly. He was damn happy to see Maclaren again. Even if his old friend wasn't even supposed to know where the house was, much less _crash_ the place and kick his agents' asses to kingdom come _and_ back. Jon supposed that was one of the reasons why Maclaren Taylor was the only man in the universe who ever succeeded in getting under his skin. And then some.

Agent Summers, that fat tub of lard, was still sprawled on the floor like a slimy, beached whale. Maclaren sure did a number on him. The poor bastard was gonna be feeling the pain for _weeks_. He wouldn't be surprised if the guy had broken ribs. Agent Alvarez was sitting on the sofa with an ice pack to his inflamed face. Red and bluish bruises were already beginning to show. Alvarez was a good man and agent. Jon was glad Mac had been less ruthless on him.

His Greek goddess was no longer pointing her gun at him, but her glare was just as lethal. Jon grinned impenitently at her. He knew she was a softie at heart. She wouldn't have bothered getting the ice pack for Alvarez otherwise. He wondered if she was available for a date when this whole mess blew over. He bet she was a fiery goddess in bed too. The pretty boy cop still had his gun towards a trembling Mrs. Kovacs, looking like he was waiting for the tiniest excuse to pull the trigger.

Part of Jon wanted to persuade the guy to just do it and get it over and done with.

But that would be foolish, considering the whole fiasco was to save their dying pal.

After disconnecting the call, Maclaren paced over to the front door and opened it, standing there and looking out for something. His friend walked out of sight, talking urgently to someone outside. Then, a woman, with her hair tied in a bun, and a black man in a blue shirt and light brown jacket hastily entered, carrying a limp body wrapped in a blanket between them.

Jon mentally winced. Geez, so _this _was the Messer guy people were yapping about. He could hardly judge whether those people were right, because the guy looked like he was _already _dead.

The black man, whom Jon assumed to be the ME called Hawkes, was holding tight to Messer's torso while the woman, who, if he recalled correctly, was the newly hired CSI called Monroe, lifted the legs with her arms. Messer was chalk white compared to the sheet swathing his body and legs. The only color on his face were the dark, deep-set circles surrounding his closed eyes. His head lolled lifelessly on the ME's shoulder as Hawkes and Monroe maneuvered themselves to the vacated couch. Alvarez had darted off the furniture the instant he saw the trio come in.

The kid was in a bad shape. Jon was no ignoramus to the symptoms of a man who was bleeding internally to death. He'd seen enough of his injured friends in war appear that way before they bought the farm. It was no wonder Maclaren was driven to such an extent. After all these years, the stubborn guy was _still _a damn martyr.

The pretty boy cop, Flack, was beside the couch straight away once the ailing man was resting on the cushions. Flack caressed the man's dark brown hair, whispering encouragements eventhough his friend was utterly oblivious. Jon's gut instincts told him Flack and Messer were _way_ more than just friends. As he quietly gazed at Flack stroking Messer's face, he thought of humid, desert afternoons, loaded weaponry and glazed, hazel eyes staring up at him while his giant hands worked their magic.

With the direct threat of her death taken away, Delilah's spitefulness reared its ugly head and she opened her trap of a mouth.

"Well, well, _well_. So you've come to _me_ for help." She stared down her nose at Messer like he was nothing more than an insignificant insect. "What's the matter, is he _hemorrhaging_ inside?"

Hawkes glowered harshly at her. "You _programmed_ the nanobots to do that _too?_"

Delilah smiled cruelly. "But of course. I had to make sure Adam _died_. _No matter what_." Her cold eyes glimmered with a disturbing madness. "And look. Now your _friend_ is going to _die_ too."

Hawkes openly displayed his disgust on his visage. His Greek goddess, Bonasera, scowled like a pissed off jaguar. Monroe looked centimeters away from tackling Mrs. Kovacs and beating the snot out of her.

Flack literally acted on it.

Jon was thankful he was still as fast as he was in his younger Marine days. He bulldozed Flack from the side and clamped his tree trunk-like arms around the thrashing detective, narrowly evading a strong fist flying at his face. Flack's gun fell to the floor and skidded a couple of feet away. Boy, the kid was _tough_ for his body shape. Jon maintained his grip until Flack began to tire. From the corners of his silver eyes, Jon could see the detective's friends were hesitant over how to aid him. Even Maclaren held back, but the glint in those hazel eyes of his were different from the fluster in the others. Maclaren understood him and his actions.

"_Calm down_, kid, if ya wanna _help_ yer _buddy_. I'm on _your _side, remember?" Jon whispered into Flack's ear.

Jon unfastened his hold. Flack broke out with an aggravated, wide fling of his arms, winded and pulsing with adrenalin. Jon felt sorry for the poor kid. Both times they'd met, including this time, he'd ended up ramming the guy down like a bullet train. And it wasn't really the kid's fault either.

Delilah opened her yap again. "You're all _FINISHED! _More FBI agents are already on their way here! And you're _ALL_ going to _PRISON!_" She thrust one manicured finger at Flack. "Especially _YOU!_"

Flack's hands balled into fists again. Geez, the bitch never learned.

"_Agent Turgis! ARREST THEM!_"

Jon simply sat back down on his chair, pulled out a cigarette from a pack in his coat pocket and casually lit it. He blew out rings of smoke, then said, "Nope."

Mrs. Kovacs turned purple, and stomped her foot on the floor. "_Do it! _It's your _JOB!_"

"Ya know, for a _government lackey_, ya sure think you're one important person, don'tcha?" Jon puffed out more smoke from his mouth and nostrils. "I got a newsflash for ya, hon."

He whipped a hand in her direction and crushed her wrist in it. He wrenched her down to her knees. She screamed in fright. He shoved his face at hers, looming over her.

"Ya think you're so _important_, _haahn? _Think you're the _only_ scientist 'round who knows how ta work this nanotechnology? Right now as I'm talkin', there're _hundreds_ of others who're studyin' it and learnin' it. It's just a matter of time 'fore you're _obsolete_. The _only_ reason you ain't _dead_, is because I haven't reported my final findings to the higher ups. _They don't know yet that YOU killed their top nanotechnologist_. And guess what? _I've got your confession all taped and ready to be mailed at my notice_. Ya know what _that_ means? It means _I'M_ the one who's got the winning hand here. It means _I'M_ the one who gets ta decide how long ya get ta live as a free woman before _my_ bosses decide ta end it with a _quick shot to the head!_"

The entire room was dissonantly silent in the wake of Jon's words. Maclaren and Bonasera stood together, observing Delilah and her reaction. Monroe and Hawkes were at the end of the couch over Messer, while Flack was back kneeling next to him. They stared at Jon with something analogous to trepidation and awe. Alvarez stood in the far corner of the living room, still pressing the ice pack to his face and observing things from a distance. The agent's face was a blank mask.

"So, if I were _you_, _sweetheart_ …" Jon tightened his grip. The blonde scientist whimpered pathetically. "I'd be _very_ nice to these folks and _help_ their buddy there." Jon made a motion towards Messer. "Seeing as it's _YOUR_ fault all this _crap_ happened in the first place."

Delilah looked petrified for an instant. Then, her tanned face hardened. "I don't have the PDA that controls this particular batch of nanobots anymore."

Jon's lips curved into a fierce smile. "That _right?_"Keeping one hand around her wrist, he rummaged around in his coat and took out a rectangular, digital device with an LCD screen and some silver buttons at the bottom. "You mean … _this_ one?"

Mrs. Kovacs' face blanched terribly.

Jon barked out a harsh laugh. "Aww, c'mon. You fuckin' _hated_ Adam. _I know_. I saw it in yer eyes every time Adam was congratulated for the work, and not _you_. Never figured you'd be crazy 'nough ta kill him the way ya did. But, I _did_ figure out you'd _never_ chuck somethin' as precious as the very object that helped ya to murder him." Jon jiggled the PDA. "Betcha get a thrill just _lookin' _at this, don'tcha? Like an instant kick every time ya open yer handbag."

The PDA was placed into the nanotechnologist's hands. "Now be a good girl and reverse the damage you've done." Jon then gestured pointedly at Flack. "Or I'll let the pretty boy cop there do _whatever_ he wants with ya."

Delilah was shivering beneath his hand. "Y-you can't … he … he's a _police officer!_"

Jon made an concurring face. "Yeahyeah, but if I remember correctly …" He smiled mirthlessly. "_You_ got him _suspended_."

She was now as pale as Messer was.

Everyone in the living room waited with bated breath.

Flack stretched out and grabbed his gun.

For the first time in the whole evening, Mrs. Kovacs showed some sign of astuteness. After glaring furiously at the other occupants of the room, she irately plucked out a plastic rod from the side of the PDA and switched on the device. A flood of numbers, symbols and equations zoomed up the screen. Then, a graphic image of five bars of varying lengths appeared, along with a blank bar at the bottom of the screen where a vertical dash blinked. Using the plastic pointer, she keyed in a set of commands.

There was a beeping sound.

She replaced the plastic rod in its original place.

"It's _done_. I've also programmed them to self-destruct after that." She gazed at Jon with murderous eyes. "It's _harmless_."

The atmosphere was both bewildering and anticlimactic.

"That's _it? That's all you had to do?_" The pretty cop was fucking _pissed off_. His pistol was in his hand once more. Jon could see his trigger finger craving to press down on the lever.

"_All this time _… all you had to do was _type_ a couple of _things_ into some Goddamned _PDA_ … and _you could have spared Danny all that SUFFERING!_" Flack thrust the barrel of the gun at the blonde woman, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Mrs. Kovacs' face scrunched up instantly. Monroe gasped. Hawkes glanced worriedly at Maclaren, who took a step forward, his whole figure on edge for the worst. Even Alvarez had moved forward, brown eyes wide. Jon stayed cool and simply waited to see how things panned out. His Greek beauty tentatively stepped forward around the sofa with raised, pacifying hands.

"_Flack, no_. This _isn't_ the answer." She slowly approached. "If you _kill_ her, you'd be just _like _her."

Jon smiled diminutively. _Nice_ save, gorgeous.

Flack's gun hand shuddered a little. Then his grip stiffened. Flack's pretty face contorted into an agonized expression. Now, even Jon stopped breathing.

There was a soft rustle of cloth.

" … she's … _right_."

A pale hand was feebly clinging onto Flack's other hand, an unguarded entreaty to draw Flack away from the brink.

Well, _damn_. Jon smirked in a pleased way. The ditzy bitch really did as she was ordered.

Messer's eyes were open. They were just as blue as Flack's as they stared upwards at the people around him. Flack fell to his knees, an enormous grin splitting his face while he affectionately ran a hand through the reclining man's hair. It was such a tremendous change from the heartrending look only moments before that Jon blinked hard. Jon blinked even harder when he set his eyes on Messer's uncovered chest and stomach.

_Wowzas_.

The departed Professor Adam Kovacs may have been one fucked up guy in the head, but he sure was a fucking _mastermind_ of brilliance too. Only an artiste could think up of breasts as splendid-looking as _those_. And they looked mind-boggling even on a _guy_ in nothing but a tatty, black tank top and rumpled khaki track pants.

"Oh my God, _Danny! _You're _awake!_" Flack laughed joyously, running his hands down Messer's still gaunt but smiling face and around the man's neck. The other CSIs were smiling as broadly, crowding around their recovering friend.

Jon's little heart skipped a beat at Maclaren's uninhibited grin sent his way. Man, he hadn't seen that thing of splendor in a _long_ time. He winked in return.

Jon seized the PDA from Delilah before she could do anything else with it.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, _Professor_ Kovacs, but each batch of them nanobots created can only be controlled by _ONE _of them PDAs, am I right?" Maclaren and his people were listening to him again.

Delilah continued to glare daggers at him.

"So, if I destroy _this_ one, that means there's no way in hell _anyone's_ going to be able to _reprogram_ those nanobots _ever_ again _IF_ there're some left in his body, am I _right?_"

The nanotechnologist grinded her teeth. "Yes."

"Hey, pretty boy." He shook the PDA in his fist at Flack. "Wanna do the honors?"

Flack stood up and grinned. "Hell _yeah_."

The tall detective took the device from Jon and with one smooth hurl, shattered the PDA to tiny plastic pieces on the floor. It was as if a terrible weight lifted off every person in the room after that, with the exception of the fuming nanotechnologist.

"I've _helped_ him. I've _done_ my part." Delilah's prim voice was poisonously sweet. "You don't have to let _them_ know what happened, Agent Turgis. They know about Adam's kinks … I-I'm sure we can _compromise_ and find a resolution that makes _everyone_ happy."

Jon got to his feet. "Oh yeah, I'd _love_ to discuss things with ya." He gestured to Alvarez. "Get the _tape_ from the kitchen, will ya?"

Agent Alvarez grinned from ear to ear. "With pleasure, sir."

Jon hauled the screaming blonde scientist with one arm to his side, paying no attention to her lame punches and kicks to free herself. He smirked at Maclaren and all the other detectives. They looked like they could use a whole week's worth of sleep, particularly Flack and Messer.

"Storm's over and the sun's shinin' 'gain. Geddefuck outta here, will ya? If I see all yer faces again in the next thousand years, it'd be too soon."

Monroe and Hawkes actually laughed at that. Flack's only response was the deep gratitude in those big, cerulean eyes. Bonasera was busy patting Messer's head and gently asking him questions. Maclaren came forward to face him as the others bundled up a sleepy Messer, smartly standing out of Delilah Kovacs' range. His old friend's hazel eyes pierced him like they always did.

"Thank you, Jon. I'm indebted to you for _life_," he said sincerely.

"Heh, we'll call it even when we go on that fuckin' _honeymoon_ to the East ya promised me. How 'bout _that?_"

Maclaren's face reddened. "Thought we already _did_ that."

Jon grinned widely. Oh _hooooh_, that was a _good_ one.

"I ain't talkin' 'bout the _Middle_ East. I'm talkin' 'bout Southeast Asia and the likes."

Maclaren shook his head, smiling fondly. "You're crazy."

"Damn straight. Oh wait. I meant, damn _bi_."

Maclaren chuckled. "You're going to remind me about that as much as you can, aren't you?"

Jon's silver, heavy-lidded eyes gazed meaningfully at his friend. "Don't tell me ya don't think 'bout the _old days _anymore."

Maclaren's grin lessened, but the sparkle in those hazel eyes remained. "Always."

"Mac." It was his Greek goddess at the door. She was looking at him differently now. The new friendliness in those mesmerizing green eyes made him fall head over heels with her even more. He definitely had to interrogate Maclaren about her very soon. "We'll be waiting in the car."

His friend nodded at her, and she walked out. During their brief conversation, the others had already left.

Agent Alvarez returned with a large roll of black tape, and eagerly tore a strip of it and slapped it across Mrs. Kovacs' mouth. Jon dropped her unceremoniously onto the floor to let Alvarez bind her arms and legs with the tape too.

"Don't you think that's a bit _overkill?_" Mac said, one eyebrow raised.

"Why don'tcha try livin' with this nasty broad for a day?" Jon's eyes softened. "Go on. Get the fuck outta here. Ya got some _celebratin'_ta do."

"Do you really have a tape of her confession of the murder?"

"Yep." Jon patted one of his coat pockets. "Pays to be a paranoid sonofabitch who loves to bug police stations."

Mac huffed. "You really are crazy. Are they really going to kill her for this?"

Jon wasn't quite sure how to reply. "Lemme put it this way, buddy. My bosses. They're capable of _anythin'_ if it's a means to an end that profits them."

"What about _you?_"

"Heh. I'll be _fine_. I ain't the one who oughta be scared shitless right now." Jon flickered his eyes at the trussed up Delilah. She was squirming like a worm, screaming muffled curses through the tape over her lips. "Whatever happened here tonight stays between _us_. I'll just tell poor Lucas in the kitchen and Summers there on what's left of the TV _Batman_ came and beat their asses flat. When they _wake up_, of course."

Mac merely shook his head in amusement at Jon's strange humor.

"Hell, only reason we got stuck _here_ is 'cos yer IAB _pal_ Hillborne insisted on us usin' this place on his dime after yer guy Flack attacked her. 'Course, now there's no reason for us to stay on since you've got your man outta this mess." Jon lifted a brow at Mac's stunned look. "Yeah, I stuck 'round with this awful bitch so you had time to help out Messer, okay? You owe me _big_."

Alvarez waved from the floor where he was wrapping up his … wrap up of the nanotechnologist. "Alvarez here is good. I guarantee he won't yak about this to anyone." Jon licked one of his fangs. "Once the higher ups receive the report on things, there's no way in hell anyone's gonna believe _her_. My agents and I will be off the hook too."

Jon smirked again. "_Then_, we can talk 'bout our _honeymoon_."

Maclaren smiled back. "Fine. We'll talk about who _pays_."

Jon laughed, then growled at a hard kick to his shin. "Okay, that's _IT_." Stepping over the tied up woman, he propelled his friend to the front door. "G'on, go back to yer team. They're waitin' for ya."

Under the bright moonlight on the terracotta flight of steps, Maclaren surprised the hell out of him by embracing him in a warm hug. Jon was privately touched at the open display of warmth from his usually remote pal. He'd always been the first to initiate a physical touch. He was going to remember this one for a while. He returned the hug, then quietly watched his friend amble to the black gates and further down to his SUV.

They never said goodbye.

It wasn't necessary when Jon knew in his heart that they would always see each other again.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Mac inhaled deeply once he was in his SUV again. Glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, he was shocked to discover only an hour plus had passed since they first arrived at the house.

"I think I'm going to crash in my bed for a _month_." Stella's eyes were closed. A relieved smile curved her red lips.

Mac looked into the back and saw Flack, Hawkes, Lindsay and Danny in their original positions. Mac was jubilant to see fresh color had come back to Danny's visage. The CSI was also breathing normally, the deep, regular breaths of recuperative slumber. Danny lay on his side, nestled cozily in a dozing Flack's arms with his head tucked under the homicide detective's chin. However, the blanket blocked Mac from learning whether the effects of the nanotechnology had really been reversed.

Hawkes seemed to realize Mac's curiosity about it without him even asking.

"They're, uhm … they're still there." The former ME scratched his head and smiled bashfully at his statement. His tone became somewhat more serious. "I do think it'll take some time for the change to complete. Extreme physical transformation like this? I'd say _days_, at least."

Mac nodded. He had also arrived at the same conclusion.

"He'll be sleeping a lot. He'll need someone to be there to take care of him, make sure he's hydrated and fed during that time." Hawkes gazed with kindly eyes at Flack, whose lips were slightly parted in his sleep. "Don't think we'll have a problem in _that_ area."

"Yeah." Lindsay, sitting near Danny's knees, was gazing at the two sleeping detectives with affection too.

Mac pivoted back to face the steering wheel, a little smile lighting up his commonly unemotional features. He revved the engine, then slowly drove out onto the empty road.

"How does good ol' american burgers and fries sound to you all?" he cheerfully inquired.

"I'll have _three _cheeseburgers, please. I could eat an _elephant_," Stella said with a grin, eyes still closed.

"Sounds good to me!" Hawkes added.

"Right. Get takeout, and stop over at Danny's place. I think he'll appreciate being home again." Mac smirked, already contemplating Danny's return to work. It would be nice to have the resident drama queen around again. The labs simply wasn't the same without the young CSI swaggering around whining about everything under the sun.

"Oh, and when Flack wakes up? Tell him he owes me _twenty bucks _for the vase he broke at my apartment."


	27. Chapter 27

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (definitely so!)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Awww, I've looked through my outline for this story, and it seems it's going to end earlier than I expected … in just three more chapters! There'll be an old friend appearing in the next chapter, but for now … this is certainly for every DannyFlack fan in the world. This came out waaaay longer than I expected. Although, I doubt any of you are gonna complain, mwahahahhahah.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 27**

His shower was running.

Danny lay quietly on his bed, baffled as to why he was there, swathed in his blanket without any clothes on while his shower was on.

And somebody was using it.

"Ohhh, babe, _babe_, how was I supposed to _knooooow _"

Danny frowned and grimaced at the same time.

"That _somethin'_ wasn't right _heeeeeere_ "

Danny smiled tenderly when he finally recognized the voice behind the awful singing.

"_Show_ me how ya _want_ it _tooooo beeeee _"

What was _Don_ doing in _his_ shower singing _Britney Spears?_

Danny gazed at the play of shapes of light on his bedroom ceiling, flitting here and there whenever a breeze blew through the leafy tree outside his window.

"Ooooh, _hit_ me, babe, _one more tiiiiiimmmeee_ "

Danny sat upright at a snail's pace. He was starting to feel the aches all over his body, especially on his chest. Wow, that must have been some party he and Flack attended last night. He must have drunk himself silly too. He couldn't recall anything about it.

His bedroom door was wide open. From where he sat, he could see the bathroom door wasn't quite closed either. Flack's mind-warping singing was leaking through the little gap between the door and the wall. Danny groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Man, he was _exhausted_. A pounding headache decided to make itself known right then and there too. He winced, rubbing his forehead. Worst hangover he ever experienced in his life.

He needed to pee really, really badly.

His legs shook precariously. For a moment, he thought he was going to collapse back onto the bed. The room spun around him, and he tottered on his feet. Okay, that was _not _enjoyable. He decided not to attempt going to his cupboard to get his robe, and shuffled out into the living area towards the bathroom in the nude. He was feeling hot anyway, and it wasn't like Flack didn't know what a man's _equipment _looked like.

Flack was still singing that appalling song, and as much as Danny enjoyed hearing the baritone voice in a melody, it was making his headache worse. He rapped his knuckles on the door twice, the other arm around his smooth abdomen.

"_Don? _Can I use the toilet? I really need to _pee_, man."

The shower immediately shut off. Danny heard the other man clambering out of the shower stall and charging to the door. It flew open.

"Danny. _Danny_." Flack had a toothy grin that stretched across his whole face.

Flack was also utterly naked and glistening wetly under the bathroom light, his dark hair sticking out in all directions like a porcupine's quills. Foamy soapsuds slathered some of it, as well parts of his shoulders and forearms. A single, round blob adorned the hollow at the base of Flack's neck. Danny kept staring at it in the hopes Flack wouldn't notice his eyes yearned to gaze at something more _outstanding_ lower down.

"_Danny_." Flack said his name like it was a mantra. "You're _back!_"

Flack's strong hands stroked over his shoulders and onto his flat chest, making Danny shudder with pleasure. Flack laughed and pulled him into a crushing hug, nuzzling his damp face into his hair. Danny's body shuddered again at the intimate physical contact. Oh fuck, this was virtually one of his most private fantasies come alive.

A naked, wet Flack greeting him in his own apartment like they were truly lovers.

Danny leaned back in Flack's embrace, mouth opening to ask Flack what he meant.

Flack's pink, moist lips covered his in a breathtaking, ravaging kiss. Danny let out a high-pitched moan, feeling Flack's tongue exploring his mouth. When Flack's hand trailed down his body and squeezed one side of his buttocks, Danny's blue eyes snapped open.

Nobu.

Hillborne.

Mac kissing him.

Flack yelling at him, telling him he wanted to transfer.

Flack in tears.

He and Pop on the bench.

_Bang_.

Himself in tears.

Touch. Friction. Wetness.

Unending pleasure.

Beautiful, blue eyes claiming his soul.

Love.

"Hey, heyhey_hey_," Flack said soothingly, caressing him face and neck and watching him closely. "It's okay, it's _okay_, _see? _You're alright now."

Danny felt the trembling in his legs begin anew, and he wrapped his arms around Flack's sopping but hot body. One of Flack's hands was still on his bottom while the other was firm against his lower back.

"Oh _shit_, I remember - I _remember_, I-I was goin' to get a new change of clothes from my bag." Danny looked into Flack's eyes. "Then the _vertigo_ hit me so bad … and I just … I just _fell _and couldn't geddup. It was like I was _dyin'_."

Flack bit his lower lip. "You _were_."

"What?"

"You _were_ dyin'. The nanobots inside ya were causin' you to bleed internally."

Danny's forehead thumped onto Flack's robust chest. "Fuck."

Flack emitted a wavering chuckle. "Yeah. My sentiments 'xactly."

Danny lifted his head once more. The two lovers touched foreheads and noses.

"I remember … Hawkes. And … bein' in a _car_. And this … screamin' blonde lady." Danny made a face.

Flack grunted. "She was no _lady_, I can tell ya that."

Danny's blue eyes suddenly widened. "You were gonna _shoot_ her."

Flack's mien hardened. "Yeah. And I wouldn't have regretted it one _bit_."

Danny shot him an uncannily judicious gaze. "Yes. You would."

Flack's mouth opened in objection. Then it closed, and he frowned. Then he opened his mouth again but no words came out. Finally, Flack merely huffed and smirked.

"Why do ya hafta be my _conscience_, hahn?"

Danny smiled. "'Cos I care."

The shorter man nipped Flack on his clean-shaven chin. He nudged the soaked man in the side and cleared his throat. "C'mon, I gotta use the loo. Go and dry yourself outside."

Flack was still smiling to himself, standing in Danny's way. Danny poked him harder in the side, impelling a snicker out of Flack. Flack pecked him softly on the lips and stepped to one side, grabbing a white towel hanging beside the shower stall. Danny raised the toilet seat, then glanced backwards to see Flack was exactly where he was, staring at Danny's ass with a sideways grin.

"Don." Danny waved towards the open bathroom door. "The door's _there_."

"Can't. I still got soap all over me." The taller man leaned back on the tiled wall, arms crossed over his belly so the towel was draped over them and his groin. Flack grinned unashamedly at him.

Danny glowered with narrowed eyes, face red. "You can wash _after _I pee!" He mightily shoved a laughing Flack with both hands out the bathroom. "And _don't peek!_"

Flack looked exceptionally delectable with the sunlight outlining his back and legs. He wiped at his arms and chest with the towel. "Geez, Messer, didn't think ya for bein' a _shy boy_. And we havin' bumped _groins_ and all." Flack grinned at Danny's darkening flush.

Danny slammed the door close. Flack's snigger still got through nonetheless.

"I saw _eveeeeeerythiiiiiiiiin'_," Flack said in a hilarious, Transylvanian accent.

Danny permitted himself to smile in the privacy of the bathroom. Damn, he loved that pervy dumbass. And Flack just had to quote from one of the silliest and funniest Dracula movies of all time that was his favorite too. Flack would make for a fascinating Renfield. No doubt Dracula would never bother to leave his castle if he had an attractive manservant like Flack.

A trickling sound filled the bathroom. Danny sighed loudly in relief. Whoa, he felt like he hadn't urinated in _days_.

Danny glimpsed down into the toilet bowl.

His yell of horror brought Flack tearing in, skidding on the slippery bathroom tiles and almost knocking Danny over.

"What, _what_, _what happened!_"

Danny couldn't reply due to his hand clamped over his mouth and nose. Flack looked into the toilet bowl too.

"Holy _cow_." Flack made a funny face. "Or should I say, holy _neon-blue pee!_"

Danny elbowed Flack in the tummy. "That's _not_ funny, _okay! _It's not _normal_ to have urine of _that _color!"

Flack looked at Danny with one eyebrow higher than the other. "Yeah, well, a _guy_ havin' DD-cup breasts ain't _normal_ either."

Danny automatically gazed at his flat pectorals. He rubbed at his chest. Whoa, okay, his chest hair was growing back.

"You're not _missin'_ them, are ya?" Flack asked in amusement.

Danny rubbed some more over his chest. "I dunno … they were kinda hot." Danny grinned mischievously at his friend even as his face heated up again.

Flack's lick of his lips was a pretty obvious hint he thought the same. "Oh _yeah_. And I'm the _only_ guy who got to lick 'em."

Danny's blush traveled all the way down to his toes.

Flack snickered and enveloped Danny in his arms from behind. "I guess this is what the broad meant by _harmless_."

"Whaddayamean?"

"The nanotechnologist said she programmed the nanobots to reverse the changes and then self-destruct. Figures you'd _pee_ them out, huh?"

Danny's blue eyes were optimistic. "So … you mean, there aren't any of those teeny bots in my body anymore?"

Flack shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe yer pee's gonna be permanently neon-blue."

Danny scowled at the taller man, lower lip stuck out in a petulant pout.

"_Whaaaaaaaat? _You could make a _great_ career outta it! Just think, you'd be a _star_ in those golden shower porn flicks. 'Cept yours would be … _neon-blue _showers! Now how many people do ya know who's got neon-blue pee, hah?"

Danny's pout intensified.

Flack rolled his eyes. "I'm just _kiiiiiiddiiiiiiiin'_."

Flack suddenly straightened and fixed a mock solemn expression on his handsome features, still holding Danny close to his naked body.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say our farewells to a _very_ special group of microscopic pals. Sure, they made our lives a livin' _hell_ for the past few weeks, but gave me one a' the _best_ sexual experiences of my life."

Danny bit his lip hard in an effort to not grin.

"But, _alas_, our time together has come to an inevitable end. Nothin' lasts forever, yaddayadda_yadda_. We're gonna miss you little bastards _so_ much. _Not_."

Danny's shoulders began to shake.

Flack stretched out and pushed down the handle on the toilet. He picked up one of Danny's hands and waved it around in a childish way.

"Say _byyyyyeeeeeeee_, Danny!"

As the neon-bluish water in the bowl churned and then got pumped out, Danny burst out laughing and smacked Flack on the arm good-humouredly. Flack keenly joined in the mirth and the two men playfully grappled with one other until Danny was sitting on the rim of the bathroom sink with Flack between his legs. Danny's arms went around Flack's neck to haul the man closer for a kiss. Flack tasted like, oddly enough, like mango.

"You drank some of the mango juice in my fridge, didn't ya?" Danny managed to utter in a husky voice while Flack sucked and nibbled all over his lower jaw and neck. Flack's large hands were gripping his thighs securely to keep him from falling off the sink.

"Hmmm. _Yummy_." Danny didn't know whether Flack was answering his inquiry, or simply shooting off an arbitrary word. His eyes fluttered closed, losing himself in Flack licking and biting his neck like a giant cat. Danny thought it was really ironic Flack was allergic to cats. He was so much like one, sexy and voracious like a sleek leopard or a majestic white tiger.

Danny's hands moved downwards to pinch Flack's muscular bottom. Hoo _baby_, his own personal stress relief globes. Danny smiled and bit his lower lip, burying his face in Flack's neck when the other man moved forward and sculpted the length of his body to his. The CSI shivered at the heat emanating from Flack's velvety skin. The warmth was a delicious contrast to the chill of the sink's inflexible surface that made Danny hiss.

Flack kissed him again, his free hands stroking Danny's hips and flanks before settling on his lower back, sketching random patterns on the skin there. The smaller man's legs instinctively folded around Flack's hips and thighs. Danny was very grateful his sink was built into a durable, ceramic counter that also had a cupboard beneath it for support. Flack fervently studied Danny's reflection with heavy-lidded blue eyes from the mirror above the sink.

"Anybody ever tell ya you've got the sexiest lower back, Messer?" Flack whispered in a low, rasping tone into his ear, massaging circles with his thumbs on the aforementioned area of smooth flesh. "I wanna tattoo my _name_ there, show everybody you're _mine_."

Danny moaned deep in his throat, shuddering at the promise in Flack's voice. His lover grinded his groin hard into Danny's, making Danny's hardening cock jump and leak droplets of pre-come onto both their bellies. Flack's lips slipped over Danny's once more. Danny couldn't get enough of the other man and his nubile tongue over and around his. Their mouths still locked together, Flack moved his hips backwards to thrust again. With the way Danny had his legs curled around Flack's body, his nether regions were exposed. On Flack's thrust forward, the head of his engorged shaft rammed straight into the sensitive tissue of Danny's perineum.

Groaning, Danny broke the kiss and bit into Flack's shoulder, feeling Flack jerk. Oh _fuck_, that felt so _good_. Flack's cock slid downwards between his buttocks, stroking directly against the hot flesh there. The CSI's arms and legs trembled violently. Flack's breathing was irregular and harsh in his ears. Danny whimpered audibly into the homicide detective's shoulder when he felt the mushroom tip push hard against his anus.

"Ya want it _bad_, don'tcha, babe?" Flack's voice was shaking as much as Danny's entire body was.

Danny fought to lift his head.

His vision suddenly turned into dizzying grayscale shades.

"Okay, whoa_whoa_." Danny felt Flack hug him tightly. "_Okay_, you're still too tired for this kinda activity, buddy." There was a hint of amusement and tenderness to his tone.

Flack supported Danny sitting upright on the sink while he maneuvered his other arm under Danny's knees. Danny whined even as his arms went around Flack's neck and shoulders.

"Fuck it, why'd ya _stop?_"

His friend laughed, his cerulean eyes crinkling. "Danny, if ya haven't noticed, pal, ya can't even _move_."

Danny's dazed mind slowly processed that. By the time he figured it out, Flack was already carefully laying him onto his bed and tugging the blanket over him till his shoulders. Danny hung onto Flack's wrist.

"Stay here?" Danny's eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. He struggled to keep them open.

Flack smiled fondly at him, twisting his arm so Danny held his hand instead. "I'll finish showerin' and be back in a flash, 'kay? Ya need to nap a little more anyway." Flack leaned down and kissed him, then touched foreheads so they were staring each other in the eye. "You better get all the rest ya can, 'cos when ya wake up …" - Flack grinned - "I'm gonna make you _scream_."

The shorter man licked his lips. He lost the battle against his drowsiness. "I'm … countin' on it."

Danny fell into a deep, peaceful slumber to the soundtrack of Flack murmuring sweet nothings to him.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"So … lemme get this straight."

A naked Danny sat perpendicular to an also naked Flack on his couch in the living room, his thighs resting on top of Flack's and the rest of his legs extended out onto the brown cushion. Flack was slouching comfortably on the back of the couch, his left arm propping up Danny behind the CSI's back with one hand periodically massaging the muscle over Danny's hip. Danny squirmed a little to snuggle his torso nearer to Flack's.

"There were these two scientists specializin' in nanotechnology, the _Kovacs_, workin' for the FBI on some secret project about _advanced nanobots_." Danny chewed on the slice of peppery pizza in his hand while Flack stared overtly at him. "The main scientist, _this_ …" - Danny waved his free hand around - "This Adam Kovacs guy had that, whaddaya call that fetish again? I can never remember it."

"He was a guy who wanted ta be a woman." Flack smirked, never moving his gaze away.

"Right, okay." Danny let Flack take a bite out of his pizza, cogitating over the information Flack imparted during their early lunch. "This Kovacs guy created these microscopic nanobots that were capable of doin' _anythin'_, and of all the things to do, he decided to use them to change his body, _literally_."

Danny looked at the other man for confirmation. Flack made a face and shrugged.

"Now, his _wife_, Delilah Kovacs, was real pissed off her husband had this _kink_, and when she discovered what he was goin' to do … she _sabotaged_ his experiment so that she could _watch_ him suffer and slowly thirst and starve to _death?_ Even knowin' how _important_ he was to their project and the FBI? "

Flack took another bite from the pizza slice, then nibbled on Danny's thumb. "Uh huh."

Danny made a sympathetic face. "Man, that's _rough_."

"Maybe it was a mercy of sorts he didn't hafta stick with her any longer. Ya shoulda seen how fuckin' bitchy and _nasty_ she was when Stella and I interrogated her."

Danny sucked on his fingers after finishing the remains of the slice, lost in thought. "So, after that, she dumped his naked body in that alley where we found it. Just to _spite_ him, even after he was _dead_." The CSI shook his head. "And the neon-blue stuff that was made up of _billions_ of these nanobots … it wasn't perfect either."

"Nope. It worked _real_ good, but the moment the sun rises and sunlight hits it? _Boomboom_."

Danny slid higher up onto Flack's thighs so he was precisely sitting on top of Flack's groin. The homicide detective didn't grumble one bit about the additional weight. "So _that's_ why the explosion happened. And … all the changes that happened to my body … it was because the nanobots were still programmed to do all that. They were just doin' what they were told to do. 'Cept it was on the _wrong_ person."

"Uh hmm."

"Maybe my transformation wasn't as severe as what happened to the Kovacs guy 'cos there wasn't as much of the neon-blue substance on me as it was on his body." Danny sighed, and smiled at Flack in relief. "I'm just glad it was _reversible_."

Flack took Danny's hand in his and sucked on the fingers. "Me too."

Feeling Flack's warm tongue licking and twisting around his fingers made Danny's toes curl. "How'd you even find out about all this in the first place? Ya never told me the details on that."

"Believe it or not, we had an _informant_ who's a _Fed_."

Danny's eyes widened. "You're _jokin'_."

Flack smirked. "Nope. Do ya remember seein' this seven-foot-tall giant of a guy in a suit? With silver eyes?"

Danny thought hard, eyes narrowing. His brain pulled up the memory of a powerful, guttural voice speaking coldly about taped confessions and bullets in the brain. "I kinda remember him _talkin'_ to somebody. Sounded like the sorta guy you don't ever wanna meet in a dark alley."

"You can say _that _again." Flack wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and pulled the CSI close until he could nuzzle Danny's cheek. "He's an assistant director in the FBI. The same guy who took away all our research and evidence and even the Kovacs corpse in the first place. He was helpin' us out 'cos he and Mac, they got _history_ together."

"_Mac? _No way." Danny chortled in disbelief. "That's _way _too much of a coincidence."

"I dunno. Maybe somebody up there likes ya, Messer."

Danny chuckled again. Flack took the opportunity to kiss Danny, tasting pepperoni and cheese and cold sake on the other man's lips. When their faces moved apart a couple of inches, a strand of saliva still connected their wet lips.

Flack licked his lips, breaking the saliva thread. "Mmm, pizza and sake."

Danny licked his lips too. "Courtesy of our generous _pal_, Hillborne."

Flack sniggered. "Yeah, guess he ain't such a bad guy … since we're _both_ goin' back to work on Monday and all."

Danny's jaw sagged. "_He dropped the investigation_."

"Uhhh _hm_." A haughty expression crossed Flack's mien. "In his own written words … 'The charges brought against Detective Donald Flack, Jr. were investigated and proven to be _unjustified_ and _unsubstantiated_. Therefore, it is _highly_ recommended that his status of homicide detective is to be _reinstated_ immediately. We _apologize_ for any inconvenience caused.'"

Danny cackled. "Man, that is the biggest load of asskissin' bullshit I ever heard." He then planted a loud smooch on Flack's lips. "But it's also the _best_ load of BS I heard all day."

Flack grabbed Danny by his upper arms and manhandled him onto his back on the couch. It made Danny go, "Oof!" and laugh at the same time. Flack was on top of him in an instant, joining them together from chest to stomach to groin to thighs.

"Oh _yeah? _It was better than me tellin' ya I was gonna make ya _scream _in _ecstasy_?" Flack slithered his hands under Danny's lower back, then down to his curvy ass.

Danny made a low, husky sound. "So ya admittin' that was _bullshit _too?" The CSI laughed impishly.

A dangerous gleam appeared in Flack's blue eyes. "Ohh, I'm gonna _get_ ya fer that."

Keeping his hands clenched on Danny's buttocks, Flack slid down until he was face to face with Danny's half-erect cock. Flack licked his lower lip slowly. As he stared, it hardened more and more until it was curved up against Danny's flat abdomen, flushed and throbbing.

Flack gazed up at Danny with heavy-lidded, wicked eyes. "Now, _that_, my friend, is the _real_ magic of these baby blues." He waggled his thick eyebrows.

Danny, who'd been watching ardently watching him and wriggling in his unyielding grasp, laughed at Flack's statement, eyes scrunched shut. Danny whacked him on the head.

"You're all _talk_, Flack. C'mon, put yer money where yer _mouth_ is." Danny bit his lower lip when he realized what he just said.

Flack grinned like a lion. Danny's trembling thighs fell open.

In one go, Flack swallowed Danny to the root.

Danny's blue eyes widened until the whites were visible around the irises. His head snapped back intensely into the cushion and a piercing cry ripped out from his open mouth. His hips bucked uncontrollably, but were held immobile by Flack's great hands. Flack groaned low in his throat, eyes unclosed as his head bobbed up and down, lips stretched around the stiff cock. He was rock hard merely watching Danny's uninhibited reactions.

Danny's feet scraped Flack's sides trying to find a foothold to thrust himself deeper into Flack's scorching mouth. His hands scrabbled madly for anything to hold. Danny curled his fingers deep into one of the couch's square pillows, biting hard on it to curb his high moans when Flack began bobbing his head faster. Danny's breaths became rapid pants. Fuck, he felt like he was burning up in flames, the pleasure streaking outwards from his groin so turbulent it threatened to undo him at the very seams.

Flack lifted his head until the hard, wet appendage popped out from his mouth. His tongue snaked out, licking his lips clean. Mmm, _yeah_, he was going to commit Danny's musky flavor to memory in _every_ living cell in his body for all time. Flack pushed Danny's thighs apart as far as they could go, nipping at the underside of Danny's cock and then getting to his knees above Danny. He continued to stroke his hand against it, ignoring his own aching cock.

Flack sucked his forefinger until it was soaked. Bending over the other man, he called out Danny's name as he slipped the wet finger between the CSI's legs.

"Danny."

Danny moaned, eyes fluttering open. His eyes were tremendously blue and sparkling in the midday sunlight. They stared openly and trustingly into Flack's own eyes.

Flack's finger found the puckered entrance into Danny's body, and swiftly pushed it in to the second digit. Danny's stuttering gasp resonated in the living area of the apartment. Flack twisted his finger within the constricting tunnel, searching for the spongy nub that would bring his lover even more pleasure.

"_Aaahhhh_, oh, _FUCK!_"

Flack's teeth bared in a thrilled grin. _Bingo_.

"Danny, say hello to _Mr. Prostate_."

He rubbed the fleshy bump hard. Danny's hips bucked up fiercely, the muscles of the CSI's abdomen rippling visibly.

"Ooohh, oh fuck, _oh FUCK_, _DON_-"

Danny's entire body shuddered. Flack felt the muscles around his finger squeeze almost painfully. White fluid spurted all over the sleek skin on Danny's belly. The sight of Danny's abandoned expression of rapture on his striking, slack face was enough to make Flack come harder than he'd ever done in his whole life. The tall detective threw his head back and let out a muted cry, vaguely feeling the other man's hands skimming over his chest and nipples while his every muscle quavered.

Flack landed heavily on Danny, panting so fast he was feeling giddy. So _that_ was why they called it the _little death_.

"Don … I can't breathe," the smaller man rasped, prodding at Flack's shoulders.

After Flack got his breathing under control, he shifted onto his side between Danny and the back of the couch, too worn-out to do anything but slump there. Danny instantly burrowed into his chest, burying his face into Flack's neck. Flack could feel the other man shivering. He managed to strain one arm into yanking the thick afghan wrap off the back of the couch and over both of them.

"So … does Don Flack, Jr. keep his word or _what_."

He sensed Danny smile into his neck. Flack just cuddled his lover in his arms under the afghan wrap, breathing in the pleasant scent of Danny's recently washed hair. A half hour passed. Then, Danny's body started to tense. Flack's awareness heightened.

"Don …" Danny slowly got to his elbows, looking down at Flack with sad eyes. "What if … what if this is just some _phase? _What if you just _think_ ya like me 'cos of what those nanobots did to me?"

Flack groaned inwardly. Uh oh, they were headed for very familiar territory now, his guts told him. The good thing was, he knew _exactly_ how to handle this particular question. He'd been prepared for it for a long time.

Flack simply gazed at Danny for some time. "February 14th, 2000."

Danny blinked. "Huh?"

"C'mon, humor me, Messer."

Danny blinked some more. "Wait … that was … when I first started workin' for Mac."

"Uh huh. And?"

The CSI's eyes narrowed in meditation. "That was …" The blue eyes widened in understanding. "That was when we first met."

"Right." Flack smirked roguishly. "If I recall correctly, Messer, you called me a _blind, reckless rat bastard who oughta get his onions busted_. Remember _that?_"

Danny closed his eyes, but he was smiling. "Yeah, and you deserved it 'cos you nearly _ran _me over with yer car and _killed_ me!"

"Ever thought 'bout _why_ I nearly ran ya over?"

Danny's eyes opened once more. He laid back down beside Flack so they were nose to nose on the cushion. He smirked back. "Humor me, Flack. Why _did_ you nearly run me over that day?"

Flack's big, cerulean eyes were like sapphires in the bright sunlight. "I was so busy _starin'_ at ya, I forgot everythin' else 'round me, that's why."

" … are you _serious?_"

"Yeah, I am." Flack's visage stayed expressionless. However, his eyes twinkled with a passionate emotion that made Danny want to grow wings and fly. "February 14th, 2000, Danny. _Since then_."

Danny was speechless. No sound emanated from his trembling, parted lips. All he could do was reach out to Flack with wavering hands and crush their lips together in an affirming kiss.

And for Don Flack, Jr., as he entwined his hands in Danny's and shut his eyes to unite with his other half in sleep, it was enough.


	28. Chapter 28

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRM (Baacck down again)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Sorry for the late update, everyone! Been busy lately, but guess what? This is the second last chapter of the story … which means, the next one will be the _last._ As well as the most pr0ntastic one too, oh my! Somebody from the past makes a special appearance in this one. And I'm a total mush bag, I know. I'm trying real hard not to be too mushy. Really!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 28**

Detective Danny Messer returned to full-time work after a leave of over two weeks, much to the delight of many female lab technicians, as well as a few male ones who were prudently hushed about it. Who knew how the notorious playboy of the labs would react to finding out even _men_ had crushes on him? They weren't about to risk getting their face pummeled by the post-absent CSI or his chummy friend, Detective Don Flack, Jr., whom most of those male lab technicians _also_ adored.

On the evening of Danny's first day back, he was seen being towed around by the wrists by a very pink-suited Flack, who was adamant he had left behind his mobile phone in one of the laboratories and wanted to retrieve it. Danny seemed in a hurry to get them both the heck out of there, something about wasting precious time and being in the mood to dance the horizontal tango.

The shorter detective tolerated Flack's hustling up to the point they were right in front of the closed lab door, where he threw a verbal petit mal befitting the queen of all drama queens. Five seconds later, when Flack coolly pushed open the door, the resident drama queen of the lab was red enough to defeat any strawberry of the same color, mouth agape.

"_WELCOME BACK, DANNY!_"

Mac, Stella, Hawkes, Lindsay, Hammerback and so many other co-workers were crowded in the room decorated with colorful tinsel and balloons. Even the other two semi-regular MEs, Adam Pino and Zhao, were there. Everyone erupted into a raucous, merry round of cheers as Flack led a stunned Danny into the lab turned party pad. Some of the tables plus equipment had been cleared away so there was more space. An expansive banner stretched across the wall facing the laboratory door, bearing the same words that were yelled only moments before. On one side of the room was a table packed to the edges with an assortment of western and eastern dishes and drinks. And on the other side, Danny had to blink twice at the sight of a karaoke machine attached to a television set.

Danny glanced up at Flack, whose smile gave him flutters in his tummy. The taller detective made a happy face, wrapped an arm around his neck and playfully knuckled him on the head. Danny laughed. Stella then stepped forward and hugged the shorter CSI, giving him an affectionate peck on his temple.

"Welcome back, Danny. It's _good_ to have you back." Stella flashed him one of her brilliant grins.

"Thanks, Stella." His face was so warm he swore he could _see_ the heat waves coming off him. He also swore the muscles of his face were going to be permanently etched in a jolly smile. He had good reason to be so happy apart from the surprise party too.

The last few days before he had to return to work were well spent with his longtime best friend and new lover in his own apartment, mostly making love and replenishing their bodies with food and water when it was necessary. The only time they weren't out restocking on food was while Danny went for a haircut. After what he experienced in those days and nights, Danny was never _ever_ going to look at Flack's fingers or tongue the same way again. One way or another, he was going to discover where exactly Flack'd learnt to deep throat that good.

Mac and the others came forward to give him their own well wishes and hugs. Hawkes shook his hand and embraced him in a friendly hug. Lindsay practically hopped like a bunny and while throwing her arms around his neck, compelling an amused cackle out of Danny. He'd never seen Montana _that_ hyperactive before.

It had been somewhat awkward that morning when Danny met up with Mac, not knowing how his supervisor was going to react to him in light of what occurred at Nobu. He had been satisfyingly surprised at the older man's lack of uneasiness or tension, as well as his composed but pleased greeting at both him and Flack. Obviously, the two men had made peace over their short-lived brawl in front of the reputed Japanese restaurant. Danny reminded himself to bug Flack about what the homicide detective had gone around doing while he'd been asleep and recuperating for nearly four days.

Now, Mac smiled broadly at him, slapping him on the shoulder. "What, you didn't think we were just going to let you off without a big _party_, are you?" Mac's smile widened. "Hope you got a speech ready, Danny."

Danny groaned. His grin didn't waver one bit. "C'mon, I'm no good at those things! Can't we just eat and get drunk already, huh?"

Mac laughed. "Sorry. That's what you get for making me say them at every annual dinner."

Another twenty minutes passed while Danny received more well wishes from the other people at the occasion. He particularly enjoyed catching up with Pino, whom he'd been acquainted with for many years. A part of Danny was slightly disconsolate that a cherished face from his past was not there. He knew it was highly unlikely she would attend given that she didn't even work there with him and the others anymore. Still, it wasn't wrong for him to wish she could be there.

Flack guided Danny to the food table, where a very exclusive cake sat. Many of the people there were highly entertained by the cake shaped like gigantic, ridiculous breasts. Even so, they couldn't quite get why it would make the star of the party laugh so hard tears were streaking down his face and he was bowled over. It was an even stranger but amusing thing to see the usually stoic Detectives Taylor and Flack jumping into the hilarity and laughing just as much. Whatever it was, it must be some in-joke only Detective Messer and his close co-workers knew.

Once he got himself under control, Flack made Danny sit on a stool and handed him a thin magazine. "Here. Thought you might like to see this too."

Danny took one look at it and burst into another round of loud, shocked laughter at the cover of the tabloid magazine. He displayed it to the rest of his friends around him, and they too laughed their heads off at it. The other partygoers didn't really get what was so funny about the great actor Al Pacino photographed with what appeared to be a very well-endowed woman in a low-cut, black dress and heels either. Maybe they knew the identity of the unknown woman who was covering her face in the picture.

"Oh _CRAP_, where did you _get_ this!" Danny wildly flourished the tabloid between his hands then whacked it on Flack's chest.

Flack wiped at his eyes. "At the grocery store near your apartment. Think I scared the _shit_ outta the cashier girl when I saw it."

Danny grabbed Flack by his jacket lapels and shook him. The tabloid magazine flapped crazily in Flack's hand. The homicide detective was still wracked by bouts of giggles. "Pleaseplease_please_ tell me this is the only tabloid with the picture in it!"

"Actually, this one's got a great shot of yer _ass_ too." Flack laughed out loud again at Danny's outraged reaction of screaming and pulling his newly shorn, blonde-tinted hair at the double-page spread showing off his backside and his previously well-developed chest.

"I think it'd be a _fantastic_ idea for you to frame it and hang it somewhere in your house," Hawkes said cheerfully, resting an arm around Danny's shoulders.

"Yeah, and we can get you a high-resolution print of that photo I took with my mobile phone!" Lindsay added with a toothy smile.

Flack took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket, to Danny's chagrin. "Which reminds me, I oughta set that image as my wallpaper."

"Hey Hawkes, was it just me or did one of you stick a print of that photo on the notice board outside the break room?" Stella chewed on a fried spring roll.

"That's funny, I thought it was a picture of Danny in nothing but purple flip-flops and a towel." Oh geez, even _Mac_ was making fun of him with relish. He hoped to God Lindsay didn't send Mac a copy of the photograph she took too.

Danny mock glared at all of them, face heated. "I hate you all." His statement was completely ruined by his contorting lower face attempting futilely to not turn into a grin.

Hawkes patted him on the head like he would a puppy. "Oh, we hate you too." He then cuddled Danny like one as well.

Danny's face lost the battle and he smiled radiantly.

The ringing sound of a spoon tapped against a glass quieted the whole room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome the VIP of this party to make a short speech!" Mac gestured with his head and a smile for Danny to stand up and address the people.

Amidst some whoops and encouragement, Danny reluctantly got up, scratching his head and looking debonair in a tight, black short-sleeved top and dark khaki trousers. He licked his lips then used a finger to shift his spectacles higher up his prominent nose.

"I, uhm, I'd just like to thank everybody for bein' here." He cleared his throat. "It's great to be back, and I appreciate you guys settin' all this up for me. Know you're all probably starvin', so, ya wanna welcome me back in the _best_ way? Knock yourselves out on the food and get drunk for me, ah?"

There was a unanimous roar of agreement all around, especially from Flack who sat next to him on another stool. Danny felt the other man explicitly rub his thigh against his.

"I'm _starvin'_, a'right." Flack's blue eyes stabbed Danny deep.

"Don, we're in _public_." Danny's face warmed. The other guests were already convening around the table, digging into the food and even brushing by them while they were at it.

"Sure didn't stop ya when we were in that _alley_ behind the bakery." Flack smirked wickedly.

"That was _your_ fault!" Danny stuck his tongue out. "Who the hell asked ya to eat that _cream puff _like that?"

"What, did it look like I had somethin' _naaaaughty_ on my face?"

"Ya fucker," Danny said good-humouredly, ready to punch Flack in the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Detective Messer?"

Both men swiveled on their seats to see a young, short-haired brunette woman in a red evening gown standing behind them. Her hazel eyes were wide with nervousness and anticipation. Neither Danny or Flack had ever met her before.

Danny smiled in politeness. "Hey, how ya doin'?"

"I-I'm sorry, I know we don't know each other but …" The young lady smiled back. "I'm the one who gave you that blue teddy bear. When you were still at the hospital."

Danny grimaced inwardly. Oh.

Flack had gone totally motionless and straight-faced. His silent friend fiddled with the tabloid magazine in his hands, awaiting the outcome of this conversation.

"I hope I-I didn't _offend_ you or anything," she continued quickly.

"No, of course not! I thought it was sweet. Thank you." Danny's smile morphed into a bigger one. "I never knew how handy a teddy bear was."

Flack looked away, but Danny detected his patented smirk. Danny would bet a million dollars Flack was thinking about how Danny'd buried his face into the teddy as he cried out over and over again under Flack's adept … handling. By the time Flack was through experimenting a variety of dildos inside him, there was a massive damp patch on the teddy bear's body where he'd bitten to muffle his screams.

"Well … I was wondering … would you like to go out for drinks sometime?"

All of a sudden, to Danny's ears, the chatter of the guests surrounding them faded away. He could merely hear Flack's slow breaths, as well as his own thundering heartbeat. His hands and arms felt chilled. He could sense Flack's whole _being_ was, right now, attuned only to him. Danny didn't dare to glance at the man, keeping his eyes on the anxious woman who'd just asked him out.

Their decision to not see any other men was undisputed from the moment they became lovers, but they hadn't discussed anything about dating _women_. Danny had no clue what Flack's stance was on that. It was okay. He knew what his _own_ decision was long ago.

Danny smiled apologetically at her. "I'm sorry, but I hafta decline. My _boyfriend_, he's a real possessive bastard, if ya know what I mean."

Flack's eyes were on him like a pair of lasers.

"Oh." The woman appeared visibly disappointed, but interestingly enough, she didn't even bat an eyelid at Danny's admission. "That's okay, really. I'm glad you liked the teddy bear." She walked away and left them alone.

"_Boyfriend_, huh?"

Danny finally returned Flack's resolute stare. "Yeah. Unless you'd like me to officially call ya _possessive dumbass_ instead, that's fine with me too."

Flack stayed deadpan for another five seconds. Then, his handsome face was lit brighter than the Milky Way by an ear-to-ear beam.

"Boyfriend. Ya called me yer _boyfriend_."

Danny's tongue flicked out. He thrust one balled fist right in front of Flack's grinning visage. "Don't make me put this where the sun don't shine, pal."

A mischievous spark showed in the homicide detective's blue eyes. "And how do ya know I _don't _want ya to, huh?"

Danny scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Oh fuck, that was _not_ a decent image to have in his head when he was enclosed by at least fifty people all around. _Co-workers _too. He swiftly sat down so his lower body was hidden from view by the table. He was damn thankful he'd chosen not to wear one of his tighter trousers.

Flack hooted, then whispered into his ear, "Don't worry, Messer, you'll get ta find out _'xactly _how it feels tonight after the party, hmm?"

Danny released the punch he'd been holding back straight into Flack's lean stomach. Flack was more than prepared for it, stiffening solid abs that softened the blow. Flack chuckled again, squeezing Danny's hand in his. In any other circumstances, there was no way they would be able to touch each other like this in public without arousing suspicion.

"Gettin' _predictable_, buddy."

Danny bared his teeth. "Yeah, ya keep that attitude up and you're not gettin' any _ass_ tonight."

"Nah, I'm happy just as much as with the _front_. Or any other part of you. S'long as I get ta be with ya." Flack winked. Before Danny could reply, Flack snatched up two paper plates and shoved one at him. "_Food_, Messer. Then I'll show ya why they call me the King of Karaoke."

Danny made an extreme, comical face of dread. "Wha, first you're the _Jackhammer_ and now you're _the King of Karaoke?_"

Flack munched on some chow mien and fried chicken. "_Noooooo_, the _big_ guy _down there _is the Jackhammer. _I'M_ the King of Karaoke."

Danny's comical expression intensified. "Oh my _God_. I'm in love with a guy who thinks his _dick_ is a separate entity from him."

The two men suddenly shut up and stared at each other for a few moments in wake of Danny's confession. Danny was the first to break eye contact, mumbling something about getting food from the other side of the table and stumbling off his seat to avoid explaining himself to Flack. The homicide detective appeared kinda ridiculous with a few strands of noodles hanging from the corner of his mouth with a shell-shocked look. As he sucked in the noodles and watched a red-faced Danny mingling around with gleaming eyes, he quietly smiled to himself.

Don Flack, Jr. was a patient guy. After all, he had all the time in the world to hear Danny say the three words to him for real.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Flack was true to his boast.

Sure, he was a first-rate homicide detective. But he never specified to Danny whether he was a _good _or _bad_ King of Karaoke.

Unfortunately, he was turning out to be the latter.

"I _know_ ya _like_ meeeee -"

At least, a drunken, ebullient Flack crooning into a microphone with his jacket thrown off somewhere, his tie askew, sleeves rolled up and hair messy made for a very entertaining Flack.

"I _know_ ya _do_ - That's why wheneeeeeeever I come 'round _he's_ all over _yaaaa_ -"

Flack threw his arms around Danny's and Hawkes' shoulders, crushing them in a big hug that forced their faces together around the microphone Flack held. "C'mooooon, _sing with me!_"

"And I know ya _waaaant_ ittttt - It's easy ta _see_ -"

The trio swayed dangerously in front of the television that was showing an odd video of a woman running around on a beach trying to look pretty for the camera. The lyrics to the song they sang streaked across the bottom of the screen, but nobody was looking. They were ad-libbing their own words into it anyway. Flack had appointed himself as lead singer, while Danny and Hawkes were the high-pitched back-ups.

"_Oooooooohhhh_, don't cha wish yer _boyfriend_ was _hot _like _me_ - Don't cha wish yer _boyfriend_ was _round_ like _me_ -"

Flack pivoted around and stuck his butt out, swinging it side to side with the expertise of a professional belly dancer to the song.

"Don't cha wish yer _boyfriend_ was _raw_ like _me_ - _Don't chaaaaaa _-"

Danny and Hawkes broke into boisterous laughter at Flack's antics. Danny even blatantly smacked the guy on the ass for good measure. Stella and Lindsay sat on chairs a dozen feet away, laughing hysterically and clapping their hands when Danny and Hawkes accompanied Flack in his hypnotic dancing. Mac looked stuck between wanting to shield his eyes and guffawing along with the women.

It was far past midnight. Most of the party guests had already left, leaving the CSI team plus smashed homicide detective to their musically-inclined merriment. Whether it was the lateness of the hour or Flack's singing that persuaded people to retire for the night was something to be debated at another time. Some of the lab technicians who attended were very nice to assist in clearing up the leftovers and used utensils.

The three men in front of the television and karaoke set sang a couple more songs, intent on finding out just how many raunchy pop songs it was going to take to make Mac shut his ears and thump his forehead on the table. Then, Flack abruptly tumbled over from an overzealous dance move and landed head over heels on his toosh on the floor. And after much laughter at Flack's expense, it was an undivided decision to conclude the festivities at long last.

Mac was the first to head for home, saying farewell with some ambiguous explanation about meeting an old buddy early in the morning for breakfast. As Stella didn't drive that day, Mac offered to bring her home. Hawkes was the next to go after them, stating that he had plans for the next twenty-four hours of his day off with a giant smile.

"_Haaaaaaaah_, you're datin' that _bouncer_ from The Seventh Gate, _AREN'T YA!_" Flack exclaimed with wide eyes and an open-mouthed grin, pointing one finger dramatically at Hawkes.

Hawkes blushed and tried to calm a now overly-energized Flack. "Now, Flack, you shouldn't judge her by her lo-"

Flack had a very funny laugh similar to that of cartoon dog Muttley when he was high. "_Aahhhh_, I'm _right! _Oh, she's gonna snap ya like a _TWIG!_"

Hawkes became even more red. "I'll have you know she can be _very_ gentle!"

This only made Flack laugh even more, sliding down the chair he sat on until he nearly fell off. Danny insisted on knowing who Hawkes' mysterious date was, and after Flack effusively described her, Danny stared at Hawkes with a comical, horrified expression.

"She calls ya _Hershey Kiss?_ And she's nearly a _head_ taller than ya?"

Hawkes sputtered for a second. "It doesn't matter if I'm _shorter_ than her! I _like_ her, so _there!_" When the former ME finally figured out Flack and Danny were simply getting him riled up for fun, he threw his hands up and did his best not to smile. "Forget it, Curly's leaving so you two Stooges enjoy yourselves beating each other up."

"Don't worry, Doc! I'll make sure yer epitaph is the _best_ in the _whole world!_"Flack clamped an arm around Danny's shoulders, a mock look of grief on his mien. Danny instantly caught on and did the same.

"To the Doc," they said in unison. "Who Went … With a _Bang_." They sniffed.

"_Good night_, Flack, Danny." Hawkes had already turned away and was promenading out towards the elevator, waving his hand. Even from behind, the man's grin was obvious.

"_Byyyyeeeeeee_, Doooooooooc." Flack waved back erratically, vertical only because Danny was supporting him. Danny snickered and held onto his friend, savoring the closeness between them.

Lindsay giggled at seeing this hidden, playful side of the homicide detective. She stood next to them, patting Flack on the head. "We should get Flack drunk more often, Danny."

"Yeah, sure, if ya take the responsibility of dealin' with him in the _mornin'_." Flack nipped Danny on the ear for his comment. The taller detective wasn't worried about Monroe's response to that. Flack had his discussion with her over many things when she came over to Danny's apartment the second day of his recuperation. Flack had been just as shocked as Danny'd been at discovering who Lindsay's current significant other was. It might be a while before he admitted to Danny that the image of Lindsay and Aiden together was kinda hot.

Lindsay's mobile phone beeped. She read the message on the LCD screen, then glanced pointedly at Danny. "Hey. I think there's someone who wants to see you both."

"Huh, who might that … be."

Flack trailed off as the clicking sounds of heels on the unyielding floor reached their hearing. A memorable figure materialized at the doorway of the laboratory. She was attired in a low-cut burgundy dress with a black jacket over it. Her dark hair was tied into a fancy top knot braid that dangled down to her upper back. Two golden hoop earrings framed a rosy, beaming visage that caused Danny's heart to skip a beat or two.

"Hey, ya _numbskulls_."

The intense New York accent was like enchanting music to Danny's ears.

"_Aiden_."

Flack shot to his feet so swiftly Lindsay was taken aback. For a moment, Danny feared Flack was going to react really, really badly to their former peer's sudden appearance.

"_AIIIIIIIIIIIIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!_"

Flack hollered with exuberant joy and rushed to glomp the former CSI in his long arms, swinging her around in a circle while she squealed along. Danny couldn't help smiling. Man, Aiden looked _breathtaking_.

Aiden slapped Flack on the arm once he put her down, sniffing then wrinkling her nose. "Geez, Flack, how much have ya been _drinkin'_ tonight?"

"'_Nough_."

Aiden snorted. They chatted for a short while. It was obvious to Danny how well his lover and Aiden may have matched each other. They were both fire breathers in their own ways, and didn't take crap from anyone. Hell, if Flack didn't exist, Danny could actually see himself being with Aiden instead. But, a life without Flack was one he hoped he'd never have to experience, not for a very, very long time yet.

Aiden's smile faltered just a little as she locked eye contact with Danny. He could see the apprehension and guilt in those bright, brown eyes through his own misty, blue ones.

"Hey, Danny." She stood before him, awaiting his judgement. In the white lighting of the room, her eyes seemed moist too.

They stared at each other, face to face and silent for nearly a whole minute. Lindsay was biting one of her fingernails, watching them with concerned eyes. Flack's drunkenness seemed to have vanished into thin air. His blue eyes were amazingly alert for someone who'd consumed more than a dozen cans of beer.

Without a word, Danny tugged Aiden into a snug embrace, closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet-smelling perfume she always wore. Aiden clutched onto him just as hard, leaning her head on his shoulder. His eyesight blurred more. He heard her sniffle.

"You're such a _girl_, Burn," he rasped.

"Yeah, who's the pot callin' the kettle black, _hah?_" Her arms tightened. She sniffed again.

Danny pulled back to look her in the eye. He maintained his grasp on her elbows. He had to blink a few times before he spoke.

"You didn't even say _goodbye_."

Aiden's face crumpled slightly. "I know. I'm sorry, Danny." She squeezed his arms gently. "I never meant to leave you hangin' like that." She gazed at Flack. "_Any_ of you."

"Aiden," Lindsay said. "They _still_ don't know why Mac fired you."

Aiden looked back at Danny. "So … Mac never told you guys what happened?"

Both Flack and Danny shook their heads. Danny sent her a wordless appeal for enlightenment with his blue eyes.

Aiden sighed heavily, nibbled on her lower lip. "_I planted evidence_. Or at least, I nearly did." She hurried on at Flack's and Danny's flabbergasted expressions. "She was raped _twice_. By the _same_ sonofabitch. I-I didn't know what to do anymore, Danny. I felt so _helpless_, ya know? I couldn't imagine how _she_ felt. I thought … I thought maybe, if it meant putting this asshole behind bars, it was worth it."

"But … after I cut open that evidence bag … I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't let you guys be hurt too." Aiden ran a hand over her hair. "So I put the evidence back. Mac eventually found out what I tried to do. Told me he had to fire me, and I resigned."

There was something akin to anger in Danny's eyes. "Why didn't you tell us this _earlier? _Ya think I'd _judge_ you so easily for _this?_"

Aiden understood where he was going with his questions. "Danny, what happened with you and the subway shooting was somethin' else entirely. You didn't _choose _to be stuck in that situation, and it wasn't your choice either to shoot at a cop. _I chose to do it_, ya understand? I knew what it was capable of doin' to the lab and everyone in it, and I _still_ nearly went through with it. Mac was right in firing me."

She looked at Lindsay with warmth in her brown eyes. "Yeah, it seemed like the most awful thing that happened to me, but if it hadn't, I wouldn't have met _her_. And you guys are _okay_. So, it was a _good_ thing."

The deep emotion was still there in Danny's eyes, but it had somewhat softened. "It doesn't change the fact I still miss you."

"And me," Flack added almost petulantly.

Aiden smiled luminously. "Aww, I missed ya, snark-master. I miss _you_ too, ya _drama queen_. Things just aren't the same without yer _whining_ and _complainin'_."

"Hey, I do _not_ whine."

Flack cracked up at Danny's protest. It was what broke the tense atmosphere over them. The four detectives laughed together. It felt like the good old times, even with Lindsay's presence.

"Danny and I are bonking each other, by the way."

Danny gasped and kicked Flack in the shin, earning himself a yelp from the taller detective. Aiden smirked, then turned to Lindsay and said, "Geez, can you believe these _numbskulls_, Linds? Took them _this_ long to get around to it."

Danny gaped at her. "Wha … whaddaya mean by _that?_"

Aiden's smirked transformed into a full-blown grin. "Hate to burst yer bubble, Messer, but you're about the only person in the _world_ who didn't have a clue Flack was so _totally_ crushin' on ya. And what the hell took ya so long to _tell_ him, ah, Flack?"

Flack made a face. "Aww, ya _know_ what he's like, Aiden. He's like a skittish puppy. Ya gotta be all _nice_ and _slow_ with him." This time, Flack was quick enough to avoid Danny's second kick.

"Least ya _finally_ got around to it. Anyway, Lindsay and I oughta head home. We gotta catch up over drinks," Aiden said. She hugged Flack and Danny once more, looking happier than Danny'd ever seen her. Letting go of the past had a way of making people like that.

"I'm gonna call ya over and over until ya pick up, Burn," Flack replied. "Messer knows where ya _live_ too." He waggled his eyebrows.

Aiden sniggered, linking arms with Lindsay. "Hey Flack, feel free to _join_ us there anytime, ah?" The two women laughed at Flack's irrepressible flush. Flack stuck his tongue out at them. Damnit, how did they figure it out! Women were scary creatures.

Flack enfolded his lean arms around Danny's midriff once they were alone. He bowed his head on top of Danny's. "You okay, Messer?"

Danny looked bemused. "Shit, if she knew all along about you likin' me all this time … doesn't that mean … everyone _else_ might too?"

Flack chuckled. "I'm pretty damn sure the _others_ know by now."

Danny twisted around in Flack's embrace and nuzzled his face against Flack's chest. The smaller detective was quiet for a moment, then asked softly, "What took you so long to tell me anyway?"

"What? That I love you?"

Danny nuzzled deeper into Flack's chest, arms tightening around the homicide detective almost painfully at the words he'd longed to hear for so long. Danny nodded.

"Well, I wasn't jokin' to Aiden 'bout ya bein' like a skittish puppy. 'Cos ya were. _Are_. And it always seemed like you had a thing for _Mac_."

Danny shifted his head from side to side, hiding his face in the wrinkles of Flack's dress shirt. "I dunno. Maybe I did. But now … he's more like my _dad_. And _you_ …" Danny looked up, smiling tenderly. "You get under my skin so bad, Don."

"Ohh, I'd say I've done _waaaay_ more than just gettin' under yer skin." Flack snickered and took Danny's punch in his side like a man. "Man, this goes on and I'm gonna hafta grow skin and muscles like Superman."

"Thought you said you _were_ Superman."

"Yeah, _Superman the King of Karaoke _with his sidekick, the _Jackhammer!_"

Danny pounded his forehead against Flack's chest until Flack had to take him by the shoulders and shake him silly.

"We gotta think of a good name for ya," Flack said, leading Danny out of the room by his hand. "'How 'bout … _Four Eyes?_"

"I'm _so_ gonna _kick _yer_ ass_ for that."

They closed the door behind them and sauntered into the hallway. They had to let go of each other's hands since some of the laboratories were being used by the night shift and could easily observe them through the transparent glass windows.

"Just wait till this weekend, Danny. Then we'll see whose ass is more _sore_."

Danny grinned at that. It was the special one that was reserved only for Flack.

"Thought we were gonna home and get my ass sore by _tonight_."

Flack gazed meaningfully at Danny while they waited for the elevator. "Home. I like the sound a' that a lot."

Danny licked his lips. "Yeah."

A ding signaled the arrival of the lift.

Flack and Danny remained intimately silent all the way down to Flack's car, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever the need hit them. There was no necessity at all for them to say aloud to each other what their hearts knew by now.

Wherever and whenever they were with one another, they already were home.


	29. Chapter 29

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (Really!)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Author's Notes: Uhm, gee, this was actually meant to be the last chapter … but the, uh, smutty bits here got out of hand, so … That means, the next and final chapter will be pure SMUT. Mwahahahah! Anyways, the late update was due to the site going down for a while. Enjoy! And thanks for the kind reviews!

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

** Chapter 29**

Flack was turning out to be a total romantic nutcase, and that was just fine with Danny.

The CSI sure wasn't going to moan about having all his drinks and food and other expenses being fully paid for by the homicide detective that Saturday. On their first official _date_. But hey, he didn't mind Flack making him moan in other … pleasurable ways, no, sir.

The two detectives were going to spend the sunny, clear morning playing golf.

_Miniature _golf, that is.

"Told ya I'd take ya out on a date over a round a' golf, didn't I?" Flack had said to him as he picked Danny up outside his apartment building.

"No, you said ya wanted us to talk 'bout that urban golf case over a round 'a golf. And ya said _golf_. Not _miniature_ golf." Danny took off his glasses and leaned over in the passenger seat to let Flack kiss him. He was now officially more addicted to the tall, dark-haired man's kisses than cigarettes and beer put together. Anyone who said he was a crazy sonofagun for thinking that apparently never got a taste of Flack in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or the evening. Or in bed after a frenzied bout of love making. Not that Danny was about to let any other human being get a savor of his lover anytime soon.

Heh. Maybe after a _thousand_ years. Not.

"Whatever, Messer. Same difference," Flack answered with a smirk, pink lips warm and tasting like mint and black coffee.

Danny's chuckle and mischievous rejoinder was drowned out by Flack's enveloping mouth and tongue, and the CSI was more than happy to shut up. Fifteen minutes flew by in a spine-tingling session of wrestling tongues and sliding, moist lips and muted moans on the front seats of Flack's car. Danny laughed at the supremely dazed but content expression, which prompted Flack to kiss him again. Danny had to reluctantly extricate himself from his lover's octopus grip and smack Flack on the shoulder to provoke the guy to driving them anywhere that morning.

The smiling, shorter man was feeling so high he didn't give a damn if anyone saw the two of them together. They would probably be simply jealous he got to have an amazing guy like Don Flack, Jr. as his significant other. Danny smiled fondly at Flack as the other man started the car, looking like a tiger who just had his fill of delicious cream.

Wow. So _this_ was what it felt like to be truly happy.

Flack drove them to Randall's Island Golf Center, arguably the best driving range on the island of Manhattan. Throughout their journey from Danny's apartment building in Queens to the Triboro Bridge and on to Randall's Island, Danny was squirming in his seat. Squirming, and trying his hardest to not to show any reaction to Flack's large hand under the jacket on his lap, over his groin.

"Whassamatter, Danny? The leather seats not to yer likin'?" Flack said with a wicked grin. Danny sunk pearly teeth into his lower lip hard and clamped a hand over his mouth. Flack's hand moved sinuously over the growing bulge in his pants. The CSI bit back a moan when Flack squeezed him.

"Don … if ya _don't_ …" - Danny panted - "… take yer _hand_ off …" - Danny clutched Flack's wrist under the jacket - "Ya better _hope_ ya brought an extra pair of _pants!_"

Flack snickered, blue eyes warm like the early sunshine. "Nah, don't worry, I'm sure we can talk to the folks at the golfing range to let ya play _naked from the waist down_." Flack flashed another naughty grin. "What with you lovin' to _moon_ people so much-"

The taller detective's snigger transformed into an all-out, choked laugh at Danny's freaked out response of wrapping his hands around Flack's neck and mock strangling him like cartoon character Homer Simpson did to his son, Bart. "Hey, quit it! I'm _drivin'_ here!"

Danny punched him in the arm and flopped back onto his seat, face red and smiling luminously. "I am _not _interested in playin' miniature golf _half naked _or walkin' 'round a golf course with a freakin' _hard on_, okay, _Flackie?_"

"I told ya not to call me that." Flack had that faraway look of his whenever he fantasized about Danny. "_Mmmm_. Half nude Danny runnin' 'round on the green grass with an erection. Now that's an … _intriguin'_ image."

The dark-haired, handsome man closed his mouth after seeing Danny's warning glower. Flack strained to maintain a straight face for about five minutes, then said casually, "Naked."

"Don."

"Naked. Running. Green, green grass."

"_Doooon_."

"Sprinklers. Wet and glistening." Flack licked his lips. "Lying down. Legs spread, me on top." His voice got hoarse. "Thrusting. In and out."

Danny gasped. His head slammed back against the seat's headrest, eyes closed tight. "Oh fuck, _DON!_" Danny punched the other man in the arm again, then hunched over in his seat, forehead resting on the dashboard. "Oh shit, you're makin' it _worse_ …"

Flack broke into another peal of amused laughter. From the sound of it, Danny wasn't the only one who was affected by the imagery. "Me and my big mouth, _ah?_"

"No _shit_." Danny laughed along with his lover. "We haven't even gone _that_ far yet."

Flack's big, blue eyes gleamed. "Yeah, well, we're gonna _rectify_ that problem tonight."

Danny's expression was a mishmash of a pout and a tremulous smile threatening to break into a full cat grin. "Did ya just attempt to make a lame spoof of the word _rectum?_"

Flack shot Danny a comical, indignant look. He scrunched one eye shut, then spoke in a droll, pirate captain-like accent. "_RECTUM? Aarrrr_, ye _dirty-minded SCOUNDREL! _I oughta _spank_ ya and _smack_ ye _eeeeevil ways _outta ye _bum!_"

Danny curled up in his seat as he laughed. He never knew what to expect from his lover sometimes. "I didn't know my _eeeeeevil_ ways lived in my _ass_. And by the way, I hear _pirates_ suck at golf."

"_Yaaarrrr_, really now? I'll _show_ ya a thing or two on the course!" Flack parked the car in an empty space in the vast parking lot, close to one of the entrances to the golf center.

Danny glanced pointedly at Flack's groin. "Well, I sure hope there's more than _a thing or two_, or you're missin' some _preeeetty _important bits there."

Flack hauled Danny closer, chuckling. "Well, _I'm_ sure ya got a nice view a' my … _thing or two_ last night." He affectionately pecked the now bespectacled man, then made a dramatic act of thinking really hard about something. "Ohhh, wait a minute … ya couldn't have looked at it for long since it was in yer _mouth_ and all -"

Without a word, Danny clambered out of the car and headed straight for the golf center. The homicide detective ended up pacing behind the CSI, snickering softly and pleading loudly at the same time for a slyly smiling Danny to forgive him for being such a naughty boy. Of course, both men never quite made it to the doors until over a half hour later. It was very convenient the lavatory was nearby. It certainly gave both men the privacy needed for Flack to demonstrate again to Danny just how well-accommodating his mouth was. Not to mention how skillful Danny was also getting in said activity. Flack was a fine teacher.

The relief was only temporary. Danny could barely concentrate on the game, too busy staring at Flack's bottom encased in close-fitting, light blue jeans as the guy swung his club again and again. He could feel Flack's intense gaze on him too while it was his turn.

"C'mon, Danny, sink the _ball_ into the _hole_."

Danny's eyes closed at the comment. Oh crap, so this was why Flack insisted on golf, of all the sports they could've played that day. He looked at Flack, who grinned unashamedly at him.

"Miniature golf, Messer. _Looooong_, _hard_ objects, _balls_ and _hooooles_. What's not to like 'bout it?" Flack waggled his thick eyebrows.

Danny slapped a hand over half his face, lips twitching. Flack was in Naughty Pun mode.

Uh oh. Danny was in _big_ trouble.

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

Morning turned into afternoon in a haze of really corny, sexually-charged puns from Flack, stolen caresses and fondles and quick kisses when they were alone. Alone time was rare, since it was the weekend and kids were all over the place on the miniature golf course. However, the moment they were on their own, Danny was a wild horndog who leapt on Flack like a cheetah going after a tasty gazelle. The combination of happy, horny Flack, super snark and constant allusions to a certain portion of the male anatomy was perfect for bringing out the sex maniac in the usually non-demonstrative CSI.

When Flack started on the art of polishing balls and handling the oh-so-hard-and-long club correctly to aim straight for the hole, Danny gave up on holding himself back and literally dragged Flack caveman-style to a thicket of verdant bushes close by. Once again, Danny proved Flack's theory of Lots of Humping equals Danny Moaning like a Sailor's Harlot was still watertight. Unfortunately, it also proved humping in a public place where anyone could stumble upon two gorgeous men doing it was risky business was just as true.

It took four very loud coughs from the amused female employee of the golf center standing beside them to snap the detectives out of their body-twisting activity. Although it was against regulations for couples, much less two _men_, to make out or do more _advanced _sexual acts, she could let them off this one time because they were cute. Flack and Danny used up a good ten minutes giggling like schoolgirls in same bushes after the young woman left. They tried not to think too much about how much she'd seen or why she was grinning like a loon when she went off.

The two detectives unanimously called it a day for miniature golf, and headed to their favorite pizza spot in Little Italy. There, Danny took his sweet revenge on his lover by driving Flack nuts through the sensual art of eating pizza the Danny Messer way. Which involved the straightforward technique of getting the tomato puree all over his fingers and then sucking on said fingers like they were the very part of Flack endearingly named the Jackhammer. The moment Flack grabbed his hand and began sucking on his fingers too, Danny figured it was the ideal time to crash at either his place or Flack's place until evening came.

Flack's apartment was closer. Danny was embarrassed and quite stunned to realize it was the first time ever that he'd stepped foot in the place Flack called home. Flack swiftly assisted him in putting away his feelings of guilt by carrying the CSI fireman-style to Flack's bedroom, where, after being stripped, Danny was free to moan and scream to his heart's content.

"_Noooooo_ …" Danny's heartfelt groan brought Flack's head up. The taller, dark-haired man halted the movement of his fingers, which made Danny whine the same word in a higher pitch.

"What, Danny? Ya want me ta stop?" Flack smirked. His forefinger and middle finger were deep inside Danny, curved upwards so they stroked the gland within with every motion. Flack pressed his thumb hard into the other man's perineum, making Danny's supple body shudder.

"_Nooooo_, _don't _…" Danny tried to move his hips, but he was effectively trapped in position.

The CSI lay with his back bowed on the bed, knees on Flack's shoulders. Flack was leaning over him on his knees, right hand next to Danny's head to steady himself and the left between Danny's legs. Flack had pushed a folded pillow beneath Danny's hips to ease any ache in the shorter man's back. Danny's flat belly was already covered with white rivulets and blobs of semen. The smaller man came twice, while Flack came once as he stroked his cock and watched Danny orgasming hard the second time. Danny was _seriously_ sensitive down there.

"Don't what? Don't _move_, don't _stop?_"Flack grinned, arching his two fingers and rubbing the prostate gland. A soft cry escaped Danny's sucked-in lips. The rippling muscles in Danny's abdomen fascinated and hypnotized Flack. The CSI tossed his head from side to side, pants and moans becoming more erratic the more Flack moved his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy, ya gotta be more _specific_ here." Flack tilted downwards to lick a long trail along the circumference of Danny's neck from below one ear to the other. He nibbled one earlobe, breathing in Danny's pleasant scent.

Danny's hands shifted from where they were coiled in the folds of the blanket under the two men, onto Flack's shoulders, skimming over the smooth skin. "_More_."

Flack raised his head until they were touching foreheads and noses. "More fingers?"

Danny nodded. Flack kissed him, then tentatively pushed in another lubed finger into the constricting passage. Danny tried his best to stifle it, but Flack heard the pained whimper anyway. When Danny's thighs involuntarily closed, Flack pulled out all his fingers to the other man's dismay.

"Why -"

"Hey." Flack brushed at the hair near Danny's temples. "We can take it _easy_, okay? Pain's never part of the plan." At Danny's disappointed expression, Flack could virtually hear Danny berating himself inside his head. He removed the pillow from under Danny and lay down so their bodies were skin to skin from chest to toes. He nuzzled into Danny's cheek. "_Hey_, it's _okay_."

Danny looked so much like an innocent child without his glasses and his blue eyes wide with trust and something Flack ardently hoped was what he was feeling right then too.

"I know," Danny replied in a small voice, "It's just … _I_ … I really …" The CSI turned bright red. "I _really_ want you inside me."

Flack stared in wonderment. Whoa, his heart must have burst, because he sure was feeling higher than a kite and he didn't even need a single drop of alcohol to do it. An elated smile spread across Flack's features. "Yeah?"

Danny looked away, nibbling on his lower lip. "Yeah, but … I, _uh_ … I want our … our first time at _my _place." His blush became an even deeper red.

Flack swore his lower face had to be all teeth in the biggest smile in the world. "Yeah?"

Danny glowered at Flack. "Yeah, and I've already got stuff ready so it had _better_ be there!"

Flack chuckled jovially. "Wow. You've _prepared_ for it."

Danny's lips twitched. "Don't make me _punch_ ya."

Flack's massive grin morphed into a tender smile. "I wasn't teasin' ya. I meant to say, I'm touched. It _means_ somethin' to _you_ and to _me_. You can bet I'll make it a night to remember for a long, long time, Danny."

Danny's cerulean eyes were crystal clear in the afternoon light. The CSI's lips slowly curled into the smile Flack would deem the one he could truly claim as his alone. It was the one Danny would use to speak of sunny mornings and gentle kisses and love in their future days together.

"I'm lookin' forward to it, Donny," Danny said in a faint, husky tone. Flack really liked the sound of his name like that coming from Danny's lips.

Their lips met in yet another moist kiss. One of Flack's hands crept down to their erections, grasping them in a fist. Danny's hips instinctively thrust forward, rubbing their hard cocks together and drawing groans from both men.

"One last time … then I got some things to give ya, okay?"

Danny could only reply with a high moan.

Flack moved his hand up and down their erect shafts relentlessly and fast, wrenching a harsh cry from Danny. Their lithe legs intertwined, muscular thighs and shins caressing together as they strived for that burst of pleasure. Flack slid a hand under Danny's neck and head to kiss him and swallow his increasing moans. Danny was the only person whom he could ever kiss throughout an entire session of sex and not feel weird about it.

A violent tremor shook Danny's lean body. Flack felt Danny's cock in his fist jerk, then hot wetness spreading between their heated bodies. Danny threw back his head and moaned, leaving his bared neck for Flack to bite. Danny jolted at the additional stimuli of Flack's teeth and wet tongue on his neck. Oh _fuck_, he felt like he was going to come _again_. Flack's pants were getting louder, hand movements more irregular and weakening. Danny slithered a hand down and wrapped it around Flack's, yanking both hands upwards and downwards with renewed vigor. He flicked a thumb over the sensitive head of Flack's erection.

That was all it took for Flack to come. The homicide detective groaned piercingly, burying his face in Danny's sweaty neck as he spurted white seed onto Danny's stomach. Flack's hand unintentionally tightened around both their cocks. Unbelievably, Danny's body shuddered again in another smaller but just as gratifying orgasm. Only a single bead of come seeped from Danny's softening penis.

They rested together on Flack's bed for a long time, entwined so closely it was difficult to tell where one man started and the other ended. Danny intermittently nibbled on the soft skin on Flack's collarbones while he snuggled into the taller man's solid chest, safe and warm in Flack's embrace. Flack simply nuzzled Danny's hair, relishing the soft texture against his patrician nose.

Eventually, Flack got up and used some tissue paper on the side table to wipe his hand and their bellies clean. Then he groped around in his cupboard for whatever he promised he was going to give Danny. Danny grinned. He was already gifted with a wonderful view of Flack's bare bottom waving in his face.

"Here." Flack dumped some bags onto the bed.

Danny sat up and delved into the bag closest to him. "Don …" He pulled out what appeared to be a very expensive-looking pair of leather trousers, outfitted with an assortment of silver buckles and studs. A silver zip ran from front to back via the groin and nether region. "What is this?"

Flack snickered. "Turn it around."

Danny flipped it so he got a good view of the back. "Ho_ly_ -"

Flack laughed aloud at Danny's aghast expression.

"Holy _crap_, where're the bits that cover the _BUTT!_"

Flack keeled over on the bed, laughing too hard to articulate an answer. Danny slapped Flack's forearm, the nearest limb he could get his hand on.

"That … that's the way the pants are _supposed_ ta be!" Flack's laughter bordered on smothering him when Danny looked more horror-struck than ever.

"_I'm not gonna wear this outside! _Where the _heck_ am I gonna wear pants like _these!_" Danny suddenly noticed the price tag was still on it. "Oh my G- … Don, these trousers cost nearly _five hundred dollars!_"

The taller man finally found enough strength to get up and sit closer to Danny, wiping away tears from laughing so much. "Yeah, well, they were worth it just for the _look_ on yer face!" Flack chuckled a little more. "I was hopin' we could pay a visit to the Seventh Gate tonight. But, since ya wanna … ya know, we'll leave it to another night."

'You mean … that club you told me 'bout?"

"Yeah." Flack grinned broadly. "I got the inspiration to get these after I saw a guy there wearing somethin' like it. You'll definitely give him a run for his money, with an ass like _yours_."

Danny stared at his lover for a moment, and laughed, eyes crinkled. "I don't believe this. You went and got me _five hundred dollar leather trousers _just so I can walk 'round with my _butt hangin' out_. Ya _nut_."

"Hey, don't diss the ass." Flack pushed the other bags towards Danny. "C'mon, look at the other stuff. I got them while you were still stayin' over at Mac's hideout apartment."

Ah, that explained why Flack was incognito that day before _Danielle's _date with the IAB chief. With a little smile, Danny took out the items from each bag and laid them on the bed. His blue eyes were probably bigger than his head at the sight of the grand leather jacket with its meticulous stitching and well-formed pattern. There was no way that thing was cheap. Danny's jaws dropped even further at the semi-transparent, Goth-like tops and the _cosmetic_ things.

"Oh, the eyeliner and the mascara and stuff?" Flack picked up the eyeliner as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do. "I always wanted to know what ya look like in it. And anyway, that time when ya wore makeup for that _date_ don't count."

"Don … is there … is there somethin' you'd like to _tell_ me?"

Flack abruptly looked very serious. "Yeah. There is." He inclined forward until his nose was an inch away from Danny's.

"I love you, Danny Messer."

Danny blinked. Nah, it was just the bright afternoon light making his eyes all blurry.

Flack seemed to smile lovingly in understanding, and gave Danny a gentle kiss. "There're lotsa things ya don't know about me yet, Danny. But the best part is, we always have today to find out 'bout each other, and every other today that'll come our way with each set and rise of the sun." The homicide detective ran long fingers through Danny's mussed hair. "All this stuff? It don't matter to me how much it cost. As long as it makes _you_ happy, _I'm_ happy. 'Course, if ya _don't_ like it, I can always _return_ it -"

Whatever else Flack was about to say was overwhelmed by Danny's moist lips over his. It was some time before Flack broke the kiss to hug Danny tightly in his lanky arms. "I think you'll make a fuckin' _hot_ Goth."

Danny let out a wet chuckle as he rested his head where Flack's neck met with his shoulder. "S'funny. I was 'bout to say the same to _you_."

Flack smirked. "Heh. I _know_ I am." He yelped at the pinch in his side. Well, at least it was better than a punch.

"You're _reaaal_ modest, aren't ya?" Danny asked with a mock glare.

"Yeah. You musta rubbed off on me pretty good."

Both men sniggered at Flack's unintended innuendo. Flack nipped Danny lightly on the tip of his nose.

"C'mon." The tall detective tapped the eyeliner pencil and mascara on his palm, smiling mischievously. "Let's make ya beautiful."

OooooooooooooooooooooooooO

It was Daniel's muffled but joyous laughter that compelled Mrs. Belinda Penrose to saunter up to her apartment's front door. She had known the sweet if sometimes distant young man ever since he first moved to the apartment next door over five years ago.

In all that time, this was possibly the first time she'd ever heard him laugh like that. Like he had discovered his pearl in the field, at last.

She put one finger to her puckered lips and hushed her pet Corgi dog, Einstein, who woofed in curiosity at her. She _had_ to find out who was responsible for bringing such happiness to Daniel's voice. Little by little, her apartment door creaked open until there was a tiny gap big enough to peer through. Ah, Daniel was there at the top of the staircase now. A beautiful smile graced her aged visage. Indeed, Daniel appeared absolutely vibrant and in high spirits in all ways.

"_Heeeey_, after all the things I got ya, least you could do is _tell_ me what ya did!"

Mrs. Penrose's smile brightened significantly. Well, well, she was _right_ after all.

Daniel laughed, agilely evading Donny's hands that were making a quick grab for him. "And _I_ told _you_ I'm not sayin' _anythin'!_"

As they approached, Mrs. Penrose saw that both men were dressed in what young people these days considered _club clothes_, as Daniel himself once clarified for her. Daniel had his usual faded and ripped jeans on, but his top was another story. If she was his mother and had any say about his choice of clothes, she would have immediately made him change to a less … transparent one. But, luckily, she wasn't. And it was very true that even in her old age, she could still fully appreciate the lovely aesthetics of the fit male body.

Mrs. Penrose chortled to herself. Why, Donny had a similar top on as well. The long sleeves were covered in some bizarre zebra-like pattern that was a different color scheme than Daniel's. But starting from the shoulders down, the semi-transparent mesh of the shirt, there was little left to the imagination. And _goodness_, were they both wearing _black eyeliner _and _mascara?_

"Belinda! What are you looking at?" Her best friend Magda of nearly sixty years lounged in front of the television set, petting Einstein on the couch. Magda was smiling in amusement at her antics at the front door.

Mrs. Penrose turned around and shushed Magda the same way she hushed Einstein. "It's Daniel and Donny. They must be back from a night out in town."

Magda's smile changed into a huge, excited grin. "Ohh, really! Won't you invite them in?"

Mrs. Penrose tittered affably, heading with her trusty cane for the kitchen. "I'll give them the chocolate brownies we made today, and see if they have a little time to chitchat with us."

"They're such _lovely_ boys, aren't they?"

Einstein barked in agreement with Magda's statement.

Mrs. Penrose tittered some more. She carefully took the plate of brownies from her kitchen table and moseyed back to her front door. She hoped she didn't put too much sugar in them today; she knew Daniel didn't like to eat food that was too sugary. Donny liked her brownies very sweet though.

The unmistakable sounds that floated to her ears made her hesitate at the door for a second or so. No, it would be _rude_ to intrude on them. She thought about waiting for a few minutes, and then changed her mind. She giggled. Ah well, she could always use the excuse of having bad hearing in her old age.

"_Mmmm_, Don … let m-lemme open the door."

The only way Mrs. Penrose could put it was that Donny had Daniel crushed against the wall next to his apartment door with his gangly body, running his large hands up and down Daniel's flanks. It was quite mesmerizing to watch the two fine-looking men kissing and getting lost in each other. There was something charming about the way Daniel had his arms folded around Donny's neck while the other man whispered sweet nothings between kisses. Some shopping bags were left abandoned at their feet.

After five minutes passed and the boys showed no indication of even knowing she was there, she cleared her throat once and said gleefully, "Oh, Daniel, Donny! How _wonderful_ to s-"

Daniel virtually jumped out of his skin with a shriek and Donny bounded a good three feet backwards in fright at her voice. She couldn't help giggling at their shocked expressions, especially when they attempted to act like nothing had happened in the last five minutes or so.

"M-Mrs-MRS. _PENROSE!_" Daniel's voice had gone five octaves higher. "Heeeey, how ya doin'?"

Daniel spied the bags on the floor and instantly snatched one to hold in front of his lower body. He had a toothy grin of a little boy who just got caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. Donny hid behind Daniel, peering sideways to shyly wave at her and say hello too. They were so cute when they blushed as red as they did now.

"I'm sorry, boys, was I … _interrupting_ something?"

The two young men immediately shook their heads wildly in disagreement, both saying, "Ohhh, nononono_nooooooo!_"

"_Noooooooo_, of couuuuurse not!" Donny's voice was even higher than Daniel's. "We were just, _uh_, just … back from a night at the, _uhm_, _local pub! _Yeah." The taller detective grinned nervously.

"Ohh, I thought you boys might have gone _clubbing_ instead." Mrs. Penrose glanced at Daniel's midriff through the see-through mesh of his top. Goodness gracious, she certainly didn't need to worry whether Daniel was taking good care of his body or not! "Daniel once mentioned to me that _these_," - she reached out and pinched a fold of the shirt above his navel - "Were _club clothes_."

Daniel turned a darker two shades of crimson. She had to forcibly stifle another round of chuckles at the young bespectacled man's deed of subtly draping an arm over his chest, right over his nipples. From the contortion of Donny's facial muscles, she safely presumed the other young man found it equally amusing.

"Uh, _yeah_, we went clubbing for a while, ma'am. See some new friends a' mine, have some drinks, _dance_, ya know," Donny said nonchalantly, hands on hips. He was still hiding behind Daniel. She smiled impishly. Oh, she was no stranger to what the handsome, dark-haired detective was concealing behind his friend. That's what she got for having married a lusty fiend like her late Gregory.

"Well, I won't keep you boys any longer since you've had such a long night." She gave them a kind and pleased smile, handing them the plate of homemade brownies. "I hope you won't mind having some of my chocolate brownies? Magda's over again, so we decided to make a big batch."

"_Broooownies!_" At the sight of the dark, scrumptious confectionary, Flack forgot about modesty and sprung forward to take the plate. He speedily pitched a rectangular piece into his gaping mouth and munched happily on it. "Shthank yuuh, Mirrshush Phenrossh."

Mrs. Penrose chortled. "You're very welcome, Donny."

Daniel, evidently, had also forgotten about modesty and was holding the shopping bag at his side, gazing at Donny with a suffering expression.

"You. Are such. A _pig_."

Chewing on his second piece, Donny stared back at Daniel with a humorous look of affront. "_Whhhhaaaaaaaat? _Shthey're _ghhood!_"

Daniel spluttered. "I mean … could you at least have _waited_ until we went _inside_ 'fore ya stuffed yer face!"

Donny swallowed and pouted. There were chocolate stains at the corner of his lips. "I was _hungry_."

Daniel rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. "Refer to my pig statement, please."

The taller man's pout intensified. "S'not my fault I was blessed with _magnificent_ metabolism."

Mrs. Penrose had to place a hand over the upper left side of her chest. Their banter reminded her so much of her own with her beloved Gregory in decades gone by, it made her old heart ache in a bittersweet way.

Daniel snickered. "I dunno why I put up with ya."

A profound, fond emotion materialized in Donny's bright, blue eyes. He was about to say something to Daniel when he realized she was still there with them. His blush returned in a jiffy.

"Thank you so much for the brownies, Mrs. Penrose," Daniel said warmly to her, giving her a hug and a friendly kiss on her temple. "They're the best in the whole world."

Now it was her turn to flush. "That's very sweet of you to say, Daniel." She patted his cheek. "Now you boys go on in and have a good night, alright?"

Both men thanked her again and waved goodbye before Daniel unlocked his apartment door. Donny was arguing with his friend over the correctness of branding him a pig even as they entered Daniel's apartment and shut the door.

Mrs. Penrose stood where she was, listening intently for any noises that filtered through the door.

There was a muted thud, like the sound of heavy shopping bags hitting the floor.

"Danny, whoa, _wait! _Lemme put these brownies _down_ fir-"

A sharp clatter of something light and hard falling onto the floor.

Silence for over a minute.

Then somebody groaned loudly.

More silence for a few more minutes.

More thwacking sounds, of hurried, excited footsteps deeper into the apartment.

A very subdued slam of the door.

Mrs. Penrose smiled optimistically to herself, and thought about the days before when she saw how melancholy and lonely Daniel used to be. It was about _damn time_.

"Belinda! You're missing the show!"

"I'm coming, darling. Just hold on there." Mrs. Penrose took her time walking back into her own apartment, locking the door and cooing to Einstein as she collapsed contentedly on the couch next to her best friend. Einstein dived onto her lap and settled himself there like he always did for the last ten years since they were together.

"How are the boys?"

"They're doing just fine. Painted the whole town red tonight, it seems."

"Ah, sounds like they had lots of fun."

"Oh, you know how young people are like these days. The night isn't over until the sun is up."

Magda chuckled in agreement. The two old ladies sank comfortably into the sofa cushions, watching a Seinfeld marathon on the television. They drank tea from porcelain tea cups and chomped on some butter shortbread they'd baked along with the chocolate brownies.

A half hour passed.

Suddenly, an audible moan was heard. It came from opposite the wall of the living area they were facing.

A minute passed.

There was another higher moan.

And then the wall began to faintly vibrate, each tremor accompanied by a noisy, forceful thump.

Mrs. Penrose and Magda calmly watched the television as the thumping noises continued for almost twenty minutes.

When the second Seinfeld episode of the show's marathon concluded, Mrs. Penrose swiveled her head slowly to face her close friend.

"My dearest Magda."

Magda also pivoted her head to smile warmly at her.

'Yes, Belinda?"

Mrs. Penrose's benevolent, green eyes twinkled dazzlingly as she showed her companion the palm of her right hand.

"I do believe, my dear … you owe me one _hundred_ dollars."


	30. Chapter 30

**To DD or Not to DD**

Fandom: CSI:NY

Author: Kimmychu

Rating: FRAO (YES, RLY.)

Pairing: Danny/Flack, Danny/Mac

Content Warning: Cracktasticness, odd body changes, language. Did I mention cracktasticness?

Spoilers: Set after 'Necrophilia Americana', so spoilers for any episode previous to that

Summary: After a freak laboratory accident at CSI headquarters, Danny is cursed (or blessed, depending on how you see things) with very unusual ... add-ons. Inspired by a forum comment: "Danny is the show's DD breasts."

Disclaimer: Nope, none of the characters belong to me. What a shame. I would treat them oh so well. They have no idea what they're missing.

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Author's Notes: Aww, man. The story … is COMPLETE! _- sniff - _Man, it feels like my first baby has grown up and left for college, bwahahahah! Well, okay, according to my original storyline, the previous chapter was meant to be the final one, but … let's just say there're a lot of fangirl horndogs out there who really, really, really wanted to read about Danny and Flack's first time in this story. So, here it is. An insane, 15-page smutfest to conclude my very first fan fiction story. I shall run away now lest my ears be damaged by screaming from enraged fans. _- grin - _Believe it or not, the entire story adds up to a grand total of ... _100,679 words!_ That's ... a _novel!_ Wowzas, I sure never expected it to get so long. By the way, the entire story is still completely unbetaed, so if there're any mistakes anywhere, guess I'll have to fish them out at a later time. And, really, thank you for all your kind reviews. I appreciate them! You guys are the best.

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** Chapter 30**

It was the heavy sound of the shopping bags hitting the floor that made Flack halt in his tracks.

Then the slick sound of a moist tongue running over lips.

The homicide detective swallowed the final bite of his brownie and slowly craned his head to the back.

"Danny, whoa, _wait! _Lemme put these brownies _down_ fir -"

The plate of sweet brownies flew from Flack's hand onto Danny's living room floor with a loud rattle. Three chocolate pieces tumbled off the plate and onto the smooth surface, only to be squished under one of Flack's shoes a second later.

Flack staggered backwards under the sudden weight of the CSI flinging himself on top of the taller man. Whoa, Danny was no lightweight. Flack barely avoided stepping on the rest of the brownies. He held on tight to Danny's waist and thigh as Danny wrapped his arms and legs around Flack's neck and hips, stealing his lungful of air away with one open-mouthed kiss after another. Danny's hands were almost frantically running through his shorn hair and down his shoulder blades, like he wanted to crawl inside Flack.

The back of Flack's legs banged into the armrest of Danny's couch, and both men tumbled onto the brown sofa. Danny never once released his hold, merely shifting his legs so he ended up straddling the homicide detective's hips. Flack couldn't emit a single sound with Danny's lips crushed over his. The CSI was making enough noise for both of them.

"Mmmm, _fuck_, I need ya so _bad_ …" The tip of Danny's tongue ran across Flack's lower lip and the corners of his mouth, licking away the chocolate specks. "Ya gonna make me _scream_ tonight, Don, _hahn?_"

Flack licked his own lips, blue eyes wide as they drank in the sight of a flushed, aroused Danny staring back at him with intense hunger. He grinned, running his hands down Danny's flanks to squeeze the man's pert bottom.

"If that's _all _ya think you're gonna do tonight … you dunno what the hell you're goin' into, Messer." Flack slipped his hands under the waistband of Danny's jeans. Oh yeah, Danny skin was _much_ better.

The CSI snickered, eyes heavy-lidded. "Heh, and here I was thinkin' it was _you_ who was gonna … go into things, instead."

Flack's grin turned wicked. "Careful what ya wish for," he said huskily. "Ya might just _get_ it."

Danny fluidly moved to a sitting position, palms snaking down Flack's chest and abdomen. The semi-transparent top Flack wore did nothing to stop those hands from leaving blazing trails of heat in their wake. Danny's blue eyes were huge with the dark eyeliner around them and the mascara thickening his eyelashes. They remained locked with Flack's eyes, closing only when Danny languorously pulled his long-sleeved top over his head and left his upper body exposed to the taller man's perusal.

Flack's hands tightened reflexively on the other man's buttocks. Fuck, Danny sure hadn't been joking about going to the Y and keeping himself fit and trim. There was no way in _hell _Flack was going to let the guy go to the gym alone anymore.

Danny hurled his shirt onto the new coffee table he recently bought. Stretched his arms upwards, crossed his forearms, turned his head aside and curved his upper body backwards. It threw his muscles into stark relief under the ambient lighting of the living area.

Flack groaned loudly.

"Ya rat bastard, are ya tryin' ta _kill_ me?" Flack sounded like he was dying.

Danny smirked. He knew how much this particular pose turned Flack on. He glanced at his lover with sultry eyes. His tongue flicked out.

"Wait till ya see the _cock rings _I got." Danny laughed at the astounded but thrilled expression on Flack's handsome visage. He could tell Flack was going to use them for all they were worth, alright.

He got off the couch, still maintaining eye contact with his lover as he unzipped his jeans and let them slide down his lean legs. He hadn't bothered wearing any underwear since that afternoon at Mac's other apartment. It was pointless given that Flack stripped him naked every chance the horny guy had. And for some strange reason, Flack was no fan of BVDs. The homicide detective preferred his Danny commando, or at most, in thongs.

Danny could feel Flack's eyes tracing their way down his body, lingering on his groin. He looked down at Flack's crotch. Oh yeah, he certainly wasn't the only guy who was rock hard and dripping right now. Smiling broadly, he toed off his socks too and stepped out of the rumpled jeans on the floor. Languidly promenaded to his bedroom door, even slightly swaying his hips as he did so.

Flack's breath hitched. He scrambled upright on the couch to see Danny leaning with his chest, arm and cheek on one side of the open doorway. His face was turned towards Flack, so the rest of his body was in profile. Flack's eyes inevitably fell on the round contours of the CSI's bottom. Thrust out the way it was, it was the most fucking beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Danny stroked a hand down the wood beneath his hand and pouted. "Ya just gonna sit there all night, or are ya gonna _join_ me in here?"

The taller detective was already halfway across the living area to the bedroom before the last word came out of Danny's mouth, his heavy steps resounding in the apartment. He even managed to yank off his shoes before rushing into the room, slamming the door close behind him. He barreled into a cackling Danny, causing them both to fall and bounce hard on the bed. Danny was still laughing while he nibbled at the smaller man's neck and shoulders, and he slithered down and nibbled on Danny's nipples instead. Danny's cackles abruptly changed into groans.

Flack grinned and swiped his hot tongue over one dark nipple. "Don'tcha know it's _bad_ to fire up somebody who knows all yer _sensitive_ spots, Danny?"

The shorter man simply countered with a low moan. Then, in a surprise move, Danny shoved at Flack's shoulders. Flack glanced at Danny's face and saw that the CSI was mock glaring at him and trying not to smile.

"_Strip_."

Flack sniggered, but he hurriedly stripped off his top and clambered off Danny and the bed to take off his pants and socks. That was when he noticed the unlit candles scattered all over the bedroom table and shelves. And the bottles of lubricant and stack of condoms on one bedside table.

As well as the full-length mirror facing the bed.

Wait. Make that _two_ full-length mirrors on both sides of the bed.

"_Whoa_." A huge grin spread across Flack's mien. "Babe, so _this_ was what ya meant by _preparation_, huh?"

Danny's face was red. "You _laugh_ and I'll kick ya between yer legs. I _mean_ it."

Flack climbed back onto the bed on top of the other man, looming over Danny on his hands and knees. "What the heck are ya talkin' 'bout? I think it's fuckin' _awesome_ ya got all this stuff here."

The homicide detective peered sideways at one of the mirrors. He stared at their reflection, noticing for the first time how flushed his skin was and how his pink lips were now swollen from all the kissing. How tousled his hair was. And most of all, how _hot_ it was to see Danny staring at their reflection too.

Flack kept his gaze on the mirror as he carefully laid down on top of Danny, nestling his head under the CSI's chin. Danny's hands instinctively raised to ruffle Flack's hair and caress his shoulders.

"Man, it's like watchin' some kinda realtime porn of ourselves or somethin'," Flack said in a hushed tone.

"That's the whole point, Don," Danny replied, voice equally hushed. He was still blushing.

Flack smirked mischievously at his lover's reflection. "You are one _kinky_ man, Daniel Messer."

Danny let his arms fall to his sides, and he rubbed his body sinuously against the taller man's. "Yeah, well … it takes one to _know_ one, hmm?"

Flack answered Danny by getting up onto his elbows to kiss the man, grinding their hips and groins together until Danny was moaning non-stop and begging Flack to stop torturing him. Danny's erection was hot and hard next to his between their flat bellies, dark red and leaking white liquid.

"_Fuck_, please … Don … _please_ …" Danny threw back his head and moaned audibly at Flack corkscrewing his hips hard. The friction was unbearable. Every jostling movement against his cock made pleasure pulse throughout his entire body.

"Please what, Danny?" Flack corkscrewed his hips again, holding down Danny's wrists.

The smaller man's eyelids fluttered. He had to catch his breath before he could respond.

"Please." The CSI's blue eyes were enormous, gleaming under the bedroom lights. "_I want you to fuck me hard_."

A shudder shook Flack's whole body. His aching cock literally jumped. His brain immediately committed that proclamation to memory, remembering everything from the warmth of Danny's bare body under him to the glistening wetness of the man's lips to the way those cerulean eyes gazed at him so openly. With such rare trust it made Flack's heart hurt.

But that wasn't what he was waiting to hear.

"Nope, wrong answer."

Danny's brows lowered in confusion. "Wha?"

"Please what, Danny?" Flack repeated softly. He touched their foreheads together.

Danny continued to appear puzzled for a few more seconds, then realized what Flack wanted.

"Please." The smaller man licked his lips, touching one of Flack's cheeks. "_I want you to make love to me_."

The homicide detective sucked in a wavering breath, blinking hard. He'd only ever heard Danny say that to him in his fantasies for so long, it was almost impossible for his mind to comprehend that, this time, it was _real_.

"I want ya to _make love _to me, Don." Danny was blinking too, eyes glossy. "Make me feel ya all over me, all around me, _everywhere_." Danny turned his head at an angle so he could whisper against his lover's parted lips. "Feel ya _deep_ inside me, so _big_ and _deep_ and _hard_ I can't think or feel anythin' else except _you_. _Make love to me_. _Make me scream your name_."

Whatever self-control Flack possessed vanished like a puff of smoke.

Danny's wrists were still gripped in Flack's large hands, and the taller man took the opportunity to tug Danny's arms downwards to his sides, effectively pinning Danny in his reclined position. Flack slid down until he was facing the CSI's groin, then enveloped the head of Danny's cock in his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue.

Danny was yelling incoherently by the time Flack's nose was tickled by curly hair. The shorter man was giving all he had to break out of Flack's clutches, but Flack was stronger. Resting his upper body on Danny's thighs ensured Flack the other man wouldn't be able to move his legs or hips either. The homicide detective tightened his grip on the thrashing arms, bobbing his head faster and swiveling his tongue on the underside of the hot appendage. Oh fuck, Danny tasted so damn _good_.

It took Flack's lust-addled brain a little while to figure out something wasn't quite right. Danny wasn't trying to buck his hips in the direction of Flack's mouth. He was trying to move _away_.

"Nono_no_, _wait_ … Don, _no_ …"

_What the?_

Flack quickly lifted his head, and the throbbing cock popped out of his mouth. It curved up onto Danny's smooth stomach, still hard and dripping. Flack let go of Danny's wrists and clambered back up, suddenly anxious.

"Hey, _hey_, what's wrong, buddy?" Flack was bemused. Danny hardly looked like he was in any pain whatsoever, unless half-closed eyes glazed over with desire and soft moans of pleasure were included symptoms.

Danny had one hand wrapped around the base of his erection. "I - I didn't wanna _come_ yet." His eyelids flickered for a moment. "Wanna come when _you_ come inside me."

Flack swore he was going to keel over from a heart attack before the night was done.

That was it. Fooling time was _over_.

"Where're the cock rings, Danny?" Flack clasped the other man's lower jaw in one hand, making sure Danny looked into his eyes and understood the foreplay session was up.

Danny's blue eyes widened, and his wiry body jerked hard once. Oh yeah, Danny got the point.

"They - they're in the top drawer." The CSI motioned with his head towards the bedside table where the lube and condoms were.

Flack crawled to the side of the bed and got to his feet, bending down to open the bedside table's drawer. He smirked at the two black adjustable, leather cock rings, taking them out and testing them to see how wide they could stretch. Danny must have gotten them lately. Somebody of Flack's girth was going to need one way bigger than the regular size.

"_Niiiice_." Flack aimed his smirk at Danny, who turned crimson at the apparent amusement in Flack's voice.

It was ironic how people assumed Danny was some sort of pervy horndog simply because he had a whole string of girlfriends in the past. Having had multiple, short-term girlfriends was one thing. Having a boyfriend with whom he was fucking crazy about enough to start buying all sorts of sex toys was something else. Especially when the guy was also one of his closest and most trusted co-workers he wouldn't think twice about laying his life down for.

Danny got up onto his elbows as Flack picked up a lighter next to one of the red candles on the bedroom table.

"Our first time, Danny," Flack said, big blue eyes scorching hot. "I made a promise this afternoon to ya, and I intend to keep it."

One by one, all the candles in the room were set alight. Danny had placed them in appropriate, cleared sites on the table and shelves where they wouldn't make anything else catch fire. They had a rather pleasant scent when lit too. When Flack switched off the bedroom lights, the difference in the atmosphere was vast.

The whole room unexpectedly appeared as if a constellation of yellow, bright stars was floating all around them. The two full-length mirrors reflected the lighted candles, making it seem as if there were twice as many candles lighted. And whatever the scent drifting from the burning candles was, it was doing something good to Flack's senses. Was it even possible for him to feel even more turned on than before?

Twirling the cock rings around his fingers, the homicide detective walked back to the bed, a roguish smile curving up his lips.

"Move up the bed, Danny."

Danny swiftly did so, scrambling backwards until his head was on the pillows. His moist tongue flicked out once more, wetting his lips. His huge, blue eyes stared at the leather bindings in the taller detective's hand.

Flack's smile widened. Oh, someone was _really_ looking forward to experimenting with the cock rings. He onto the bed and sat astride Danny's thighs.

"I'm gonna tie one around ya now, 'kay? Tell me if it's too tight."

Danny nodded.

Flack slipped one loosened cock ring down to the base of Danny's erection, and gently tautened it until it was snug around the engorged appendage. The sounds coming from Danny's open mouth reassured Flack it wasn't hurting his lover. He slid the other one around his own cock and did the same, letting out a low groan at the new pressure. It felt good. They were both rock hard, but they sure weren't going to come anytime soon thanks to the bindings.

Danny had already taken a pillow and pushed it under his hips, feet flat on the bed and legs drawn up and bent at the knees. Flack planted a kiss on the side of one knee, then leaned over between Danny's legs to grab a bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table. His cock was aching so badly he figured it was going to virtually _explode_ if he didn't get himself deep inside Danny in the next minute or two. He uncapped the bottle and poured a whole lot of lube onto one hand, slathering it all over his fingers.

"Danny. If you've got any second thoughts, _now's_ a good time to tell me 'bout it." He reached down between Danny's legs, seeking the entrance into Danny's body. "'Cos once I start, I _ain't _turnin' back."

"Don, if ya _stop_, I'll fuckin' _strangle_ ya to death myself."

Flack snickered. Now that was his Danny right there. He caressed one of Danny's thighs with the hand that had been holding the bottle, now lying on the bed near them.

Without warning, he plunged in two lubricated fingers to the knuckles. Danny was still slick and not too tight due to their afternoon activities. However, the CSI let out a hoarse shout anyway.

"_Ooohh_, _fuck!_" The muscles in Danny's abdomen rippled visibly as the man contorted his body on the bed sheets, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide open. "Oho_ohhfuck_, _more_ …"

Flack twisted his fingers and rubbed at the gland inside. It was amazing how such a tiny organ was capable of reducing a full-grown man to a whimpering, moaning mass of supple muscle and flesh. Flack couldn't wait until it was his turn to find out just how pleasurable the sensation was. Tonight though, it was Danny's gratification that was top priority to him.

The taller man inhaled deeply, inwardly nervous. Danny may have tested out a whole variety of dildos and such, but they weren't very big to begin with. The biggest one was just a bit smaller than Flack's three fingers combined. Flack recalled it had taken a lot of relaxation on Danny's part and a great deal of lubricant to get that one in. And as for the _Jackhammer_ … boy, Flack's cock was _way_ bigger than three of his fingers.

Fuck. Flack frowned. Danny was going to feel some pain no matter how much Flack prepared him. He hated seeing Danny in pain.

The smaller man seemed to know exactly what Flack was thinking.

"Don."

Flack raised his head to gaze at Danny. The CSI was gorgeous under the illumination of the candles surrounding them. His eyes and blonde tints in his hair seemed to glow.

"It's okay. I can take more." Danny sent him a small but tender smile. "Just keep goin'."

Flack inhaled again, then cautiously pushed in a third finger, intently watching Danny's visage. As much as Danny tried to conceal it, Flack still detected the slight wince. The thigh under Flack's other hand tensed for a second, then relaxed. The pressure around his fingers inside Danny also eased. As the third finger sunk in all the way to the knuckle like the other two, it dawned on Flack that Danny was forcing himself to relax.

"Danny, am I hurtin' ya?" Flack carefully shifted his fingers to rub at the prostate gland once more. "_Tell_ me."

Danny slowly shook his head from side to side. The man's wince had noticeably lessened. "N-no, it just … feels really _full_."

Flack stroked harder on the nub inside Danny, grinning in satisfaction at the returning pleasure to Danny's features. "That feel good?"

The CSI could merely nod his head erratically. He was biting the edge of one of his palms, face flushed and sweaty.

After a few minutes, Flack slowly pulled out his fingers. Danny let out an involuntary whine at the loss.

"Don't worry, babe," Flack said hoarsely. "The _real _thing's comin'."

The taller detective took out the condom from its wrapper, the ripping sound as the wrapper was opened loud in the bedroom. The only other sounds in the room were Danny's soft pants and throaty noises. Flack rolled the condom over his throbbing erection, now even darker in color after he'd tied on the leather cock ring.

Danny managed a rasping cackle at Flack dumping half the bottle of lube onto his cock. "Don'tcha think that's a _bit_ too much?"

Flack stroked his condom-covered cock, covering it all in the slick substance. "I don't wanna hurt ya, Danny. But, seein' how _big_ I am, there's still gonna be some burn."

Danny gulped. Flack wasn't boasting about his size. Even without his spectacles on, Danny could see just how big Flack was down there. But he'd rather die than ask Flack to stop now. He was going to know inside out how Flack felt like deep inside him even if it _killed _him.

"I'm scared shitless, Don. I mean, you're fuckin' _huge_, but I _don't_ want ya to _stop_, okay? I want ya to keep goin' even if I'm _hurtin'_."

Flack scowled, and started to say something in reply. Danny's fingers on his lips quietened him.

"_Please_. _I really want you_. I think I'm gonna _die_ if I don't feel ya inside me and up to my throat in the next _thirty seconds_."

Flack huffed, eyes lustrous with passion for the man lying beneath him. Damnit, he simply couldn't describe how much he loved Danny. At least, right now in this moment, he could _show_ his other half how much.

"Lift up yer legs," Flack said softly.

Danny raised his legs and Flack helped him place them on his shoulders, knees on each side of Flack's long neck. Flack rearranged the pillow under Danny's hips to make him more comfortable, then leaned forward, resting one hand beside Danny's head. The homicide detective's lubed cock slid between Danny's buttocks, making the CSI's legs quake. Flack gazed into Danny's blue eyes as he used his other hand to guide himself into the other man.

"Ready?"

Danny stroked a hand down the side of Flack's handsome visage. He swallowed visibly, then gave Flack a brave smile and said, "Fill me up, Don."

Flack took a deep breath. And thrust in past the tight rings of muscle, pushing the head and the first three inches inside. Flack's breath caught in his throat at the intense, inner heat and the constriction around his erection. If it wasn't for the cock ring, he would have orgasmed right then and there.

Danny's high-pitched moan rapidly dragged him back from the brink. It was not one of the good kinds of moans. The shorter man's upper body was arching off the bed as much as it could, his head thrown back, tendons in his neck distended. His hands curled forcefully in the pillow under his head and the bed sheet. His eyes were squeezed shut, face knotted into an agonized grimace, mouth agape as another moan escaped. When Danny's eyes opened into slits, two tears streamed down his face, the thin rivulets glinting in the candlelights.

"I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry …" Flack gently wiped away one tear, hating himself for every harsh pant that came out from Danny's lips. He began to pull out.

"_NO!_" Danny's panicked yell and hands frenetically clutching his head immobilized Flack. "_No_, please, _don't pull out _…" The CSI gulped hard, panted some more. "Just - just gimme some _time_, 'kay? _Don't pull out_."

Flack nodded, arms trembling wildly, teeth gritted. He was _that_ close to losing whatever remnants of restraint he had left. He wasn't even halfway inside Danny yet, but the feeling was already incredible. He was right after all. He _was_ going to explode into a million pieces before the night was over.

Danny's panting gradually slowed down. The powerful constriction around Flack's cock also slowly eased. Danny's attractive facial features started to slacken as the pain diminished. He blinked twice at Flack, moist, blue eyes wide with something akin to amazement.

"I'm okay." Danny licked his dry lips. "I'm a'right, Don."

The taller detective released a shuddering sigh. He resumed pushing inwards again, not stopping until he felt the round globes of Danny's bottom touching his groin and thighs. Flack couldn't help groaning audibly, and he bit his lower lip so hard it nearly bled. _Fuck_, he could feel his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him, and he hadn't even begun thrusting yet.

Danny let out yet another high moan, eyes so wide Flack could see the whites around the blue irises. Danny's hands were coiled tautly under his lower jaw and ears.

"Are ya _hurtin'?_ Danny?" That moan wasn't like the first one, but Flack wasn't going to presume things.

Danny looked dazed. "No, it … feels so … _full_." The CSI blinked some more. "Gee, I shoulda … been more careful 'bout askin' to feel ya … all the way up to my _throat_, huh?" A small smirk curved one side of Danny's lips.

Flack was elated at seeing his lover's patented smirk. He sniggered.

And Danny threw his head back again and whined loudly.

"_Ow_, oh fuck, stop _laughin'! _I can feel every _bit _of it inside me! You're like … a fuckin' _telephone pole!_" The smaller man punched Flack in the arm. Danny's last comment only served to make Flack laugh harder. Danny began to laugh himself, and it seemed to magnify whatever sensations he was feeling within.

"_Stop it! Owww_ .." Danny smacked Flack across the head, involuntarily alternating between moaning and laughing. "Ya feel fuckin' _huge_ …"

Flack was seriously attempting to not laugh for Danny's sake. "Ya know … when I start gettin' _phone calls _via my _dick_ … then we'll call it a frickin' _telephone pole_, 'kay?"

Danny's laughter and moans increased in proportion, as well as his smacks to Flack's head. "_Stooooooop iiittttt _-"

"And … and maybe - maybe, it only _works_ like a telephone pole … when I'm _inside_ ya." Flack giggled, eyes squinted and head bowed so the smaller man's harmless slaps bounced off the top of his head. "Like … you're some kinda _receiver_ … or somethin'."

The homicide detective reached around to fondle Danny's cock, which had somewhat softened due to the pain. He closed his hand into a fist around it, then angled it towards his head and spoke to it. "_Hello? _This is Detective Flack here, I gotta report a 288 and a 314 occurrin' at -"

The rest of Flack's comment was drowned out by Danny kissing him and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Flack supported Danny's head with one hand behind the shorter man's neck, his eyes partially closed and his own tongue dueling with his lover's. The CSI was nearly bent double by their current position, his knees not quite touching his own shoulders. Flack could only imagine how uncomfortable the other man might be at the moment. It was a damn fine thing Danny was one flexible guy.

"Ya know, I kinda remember sex … involvin' a lot more _movin'_ than talkin', Don." Danny gazed at him from beneath lowered eyelids. The eyeliner under those baby blues were a little smudged because of the tears before.

"_Talkin'_ … is 'bout the only thing keepin' me from givin' the atomic bomb a run for its money … if ya know what I mean," Flack rasped, smiling.

Danny tentatively shifted his hips, moaning at the sensation of the hardened shaft inside him going deeper. "C'mon, _move, damnit! _Or am I gonna hafta do all the work here?"

Flack had closed his eyes when Danny moved his hips forward, body and limbs quavering anew. His higher brain functions were shutting down one by one, leaving merely a voice in his head that repeated one word over and over. _Movemovemovemovemovemove_ …

The taller detective's blue eyes snapped open.

"Babe, ya asked fer it. _Ya got it_."

Flack pulled out until only the head remained inside, and in one smooth motion, shoved back in to the hilt. Again. And again. And again. Flack ground his teeth together every time he rammed his hips forward, a low groan escaping through his clenched jaws. Danny was deliberately tightening his muscles with each thrust, and _fuck_, it was _mind-blowing_.

"_Uuuhhhh_ … oho_ohhh_ohfuck, _fuck_, Don … _uuggh_ …" Danny's body was flushed and shiny with sweat. He was biting at the pillow beneath his head in an effort to curb his cries and moans, head turned to one side, hands curled into fists into the pillow.

Flack batted the pillow away from his lover's mouth, forcing Danny to face him. He was hardly worried about the smaller man making too much noise. However, he did hope Danny's neighbors had lousy hearing. The bed headstand's constant banging against the wall didn't leave much doubt to what they were doing.

"I love hearin' the sounds ya make … don'tcha know that?" Flack accentuated each word with a grind of his hips.

Danny screamed at a particular deep thrust, intense pleasure zigzagging from his groin, up his back and through his whole body when Flack's engorged cock raked firmly across his prostate. He convulsed, torso stiffening, but the binding around his erection kept him from coming. Only a bead of come seeped from the tip, trickling down the shaft.

Flack had to stop moving. Danny had constricted so hard around him, it was very nearly painful. That, and Flack was remembering the full-length mirrors on both sides of the bed. He grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Oh _no_, the fun was _just_ beginning.

The panting CSI let out an upset whimper at Flack slowly pulling out completely, eyes half-lidded and lower lip chewed.

"Turn over, Danny."

Danny struggled upright and rolled over. Now, with the pillow cushioning his lower belly and groin, his bottom was sticking out into the air. Just the way Flack wanted it.

The homicide detective scuttled backwards on his knees and hauled on Danny's hips to position the man lower down on the bed. Spread open Danny's legs and hurried back between them, tilting down to whisper in the other man's ear.

"Look in the mirror, babe. Look at _us_." Flack felt the smaller man shiver under his hands. Danny was staring at their reflection with large, stunned eyes, watching him direct his cock between those round globes.

Flack was shivering himself. He was probably going to remember the sight of his erection being swallowed up by Danny's body until the day he died. It felt just as good as it did the first time that night.

"Ohh man, ya feel so _good_, Danny …"

Immediately, his raw urges took over and his hips instinctively pistoned back and forth, burying himself up to the hilt repetitively then changing his rhythm to keep them both on edge. He was going in very deep, and the CSI under him felt it to the core.

"_Aaahhh! _OhGodohGod … _uuhhh_ -"

Danny's upper body lay flat on the bed, his hips held up solely by the pillow underneath and Flack's strong hands. His face was turned towards the mirror, eyes glossy, moist lips parted. Flack was so hard and deep and good inside him he could barely breathe. The only sounds emitting from his mouth were high-pitched, rapid pants, bursting into a piercing groan whenever the solid shaft went especially deep.

The taller detective's eyes were humongous as he glanced at the mirror. He'd never seen himself in the mirror while he had sex before, much less seen a reflection of himself having sex with one of his best friends in the world who also happened to be a man.

"I can't _sta_ … I-I … need to … _please_-"

His hands on the CSI's hips unconsciously clenched until Danny yelped. Staring at the mirror's reflection of Danny, Flack's movements faltered at the plea in those blue eyes. Oh yeah, Danny wanted to come as desperately as he did.

Panting harshly, the taller man enfolded one arm around Danny's midriff and heaved him to an upright position. It was scarcely fair Flack was the only one who got to behold their physical joining firsthand, and the homicide detective wholly intended to share the view with his lover. With Danny on his lap, he rotated them until they were facing one of the full-length mirrors beside the bed. Flack maneuvered his legs so that he sat cross-legged on the bed, Danny's legs spread wide apart over his thighs.

Sitting on Flack's hard cock the way he was, Danny couldn't help whimpering, winding his fingers into the other man's shorn, dark hair and biting his lower lip. The burn was so much more deep and intense. And with even the most subtle motions, Danny felt every inch of his lover within him. It was the most unbelievable sensation he had ever experienced. He avoided looking in the mirror, averting his face by nuzzling it into Flack's face and neck. His face was searing.

"Do ya know how fuckin' _hot_ ya are, Danny?" Flack said huskily into Danny's ear. "Look at yerself in the mirror." Flack chuckled softly. "C'mon, babe, you're not goin' all _shy_ on me now, are ya?"

The brown-haired CSI raised his head to look Flack in the eye. Flack could see the mortification on Danny's flushed visage, and it made him smile tenderly. Geez, after all this time, Danny still couldn't get it through his thick skull how good-looking he was. That was okay. The homicide detective had no plan of letting Danny go anytime soon. Flack was a selfish bastard who wanted Danny all to himself, and himself alone.

Flack placed one hand over Danny's sensitive genitals and the other down between their legs, tracing the slippery, hot region where they were joined together with his fingers. Heh, half a bottle of lube turned out to be just the right amount. Flack smirked, burying his face into Danny's exposed neck and nibbling the smooth flesh. He felt Danny shift his head. Then the smaller man gasped loudly, body jerking hard in Flack's arms.

"See what I mean?"

Flack used his hand and drew up his lover's genitals to better see in the reflection where his hardened cock was entering Danny's sinewy body. Danny jerked again, moaning low in his throat. The fingers in Flack's hair curled into a fist.

"Guess I'd be askin' fer too much if there was a camera _tapin'_ all this, hahn?" Flack asked gutturally.

Danny released a tremulous cackle. "D-didn't think … of that."

Flack kissed the other man on the temple. "S'okay, babe. This is meant for our eyes only anyway."

After one last caress of the stretched, snug rim around his erection, Flack ran his hands across the lean muscles of Danny's inner thighs, savoring the silken vitality under his touch.

"If I recall right, _somebody_ was complainin' 'bout doin' all the work here." Flack nibbled on Danny's nearest earlobe. "Well, babe, time to show me what these _legs_ of yers can do."

The homicide detective watched Danny lithely shift his legs until they were bent at the knees and his feet were flat on the bed. Ah, he got what Danny was going for. He felt the other man lean backwards onto his sturdy chest, and he stretched his forearms forwards. Danny linked their arms, intertwining their fingers together for leverage.

"I'll _show_ ya what these legs can do," Danny rasped, licking his lips.

The CSI pushed with his feet, raising his hips till Flack's cock was nearly out. Then slammed downwards, taking all of Flack. Both men cried out at the intense feeling. Flack's knuckles over Danny's were white as Danny commenced a fierce rhythm, using all the strength in his legs and arms to pump up and down. Flack wanted to scream so bad he bit the inside of his cheek and simply held on for dear life while his body was shaken by overpowering pleasure.

Danny no longer had such inhibitions. Strident, wordless cries poured out from the brown-haired man's agape mouth. His eyelids fluttered wildly, the muscles in his arms and legs going rigid and stark with the exertion. Sweat trickled down his face and torso. He couldn't stop rocking and seesawing even if he wanted to. It was as if he had lost total control of his body.

"Yeah, oh _yeah_ …" Flack choked when Danny squeezed his muscles hard on his next thrust downwards. He was so close to the edge, all he had to do to come was remove the constraint of the cock ring around his swollen erection.

"Ohh, _ooohhh_ … _Don_ … help me … _aahhhh_ …"

Through hazy eyes, Flack saw how red and engorged Danny's cock was. It continuously dripped pre-come, the fluid smearing on Danny's belly whenever the hard appendage slapped against it. Danny looked like he was going to blow up like a _volcano_.

"H-hold on to my legs," Flack murmured, carefully straightening his lanky legs..

Danny panted rapidly. His seesawing movements wavered and slowed. He moved his trembling hands down to hold onto Flack's thighs instead, freeing Flack's hands. His full weight was on the homicide detective's lap now.

"Don … I don't think … I can move." Danny collapsed onto Flack's chest, arching his head back onto the other man's shoulder.

He nuzzled the CSI's warm cheek. "S'okay, gorgeous, you did good, _real_ good."

The taller detective slid one hand under Danny's arm and around Danny's throbbing cock, fingering the leather cock ring at the base. The other went below Danny's buttocks, to the cock ring around his own erection.

"Stairway to heaven, babe … just _one more step_."

Flack loosened both bindings, removing them and throwing them aside. Instantly, he grabbed the shorter man's hips, lifted Danny up, then pulled him downwards as he thrust upwards as hard and deep as he could.

Danny's reaction was instantaneous.

"Aa_aahhhhh_, _DOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!_"

Danny's body arched fiercely, one hand clamped tight over Flack's thigh and the other flying up to seize a handful of the taller man's thick hair. White, pearly seed erupted from Danny's cock, splattering all over the undulating swells of his abdomen.

The sudden, massive pressure around Flack's engorged cock, combined with the mind-shattering reflection of Danny rapt in his powerful orgasm, wrenched out his own so swiftly he had no idea what hit him. Flack howled helplessly while his whole body quaked and was wracked by wave after wave of extreme pleasure.

He must have blacked out for a while. When he regained consciousness once more, he was flat on his back on the bed, arms spread on the bed and head half hanging off the side of the bed. He got to his elbows and then sat up, pulling the wet condom off and tossing it towards the wastebasket that was always next to the bedside table.

And someone was sobbing.

"Danny?" Flack's body was still shuddering intermittently from the mind-blowing orgasm he just experienced.

Danny lay beside him, covering his face with his hands. The man's shoulder shook in a way Flack was familiar with.

"Danny, whassamatter, buddy?" He gently dragged away the hands covering his lover's face. Danny was openly weeping, breath hitched, two clear droplets rolling down his cheeks. His eyeliner and mascara work were certainly smudged now.

"I-I'm okay." Danny wiped his face with the back of his hand then sent Flack a wobbly but tender smile. "It was just … t-too much, ya know?"

Flack lay down on top of Danny, staying on his elbows to keep most of his weight off the smaller man. He smiled in return, his big blue eyes warm and affectionate and not a little moist. "I know, I know."

"_I love you_."

There was no pretension or bravado in Danny's eyes as he calmly said those words.

Flack's eyesight blurred. Maybe Danny wouldn't mind if he joined in the bawling fun.

"I'm not just sayin' that." Danny stroked Flack's cheek.

Flack blinked hard a couple of times. "I know," he whispered hoarsely.

Danny smiled at him again, then tugged his head down to kiss him. They snuggled together and simply basked in the afterglow for some time, Flack reclining on his back while Danny rested his head on one of his shoulders.

About ten minutes later, Flack reluctantly got up to search for a towel or tissue paper to clean both of them.

"Top drawer," Danny said with a smirk, gesturing towards the bedside table.

Flack opened it, and sure enough, there was a blue, medium-sized towel in there.

"Man, we oughta change yer nickname to _Boy Scout_," Flack said drolly. "Prepared for _everythin'_."

Danny stuck his tongue out and snickered.

The homicide detective deftly wiped Danny clean, making sure he didn't chafe the other man too much between the legs. Obviously, Danny's body thought it was too _little_.

Flack laughed, face crinkled. "Wha, ya still wanna have another _go? _I'm 'bout to _drop_ here."

Danny also laughed, wrapping his arms around Flack's shoulders. "Nah … but I'd be a liar if I said that didn't feel good," he murmured into Flack's mouth.

Flack pecked him lovingly on the lips, then used the towel to wipe himself too. Danny drowsily crawled up the bed to lounge on the pillows, watching his lover with an amused expression.

"Geez, I can't believe all of _that_ fit inside me."

The taller detective finished up, threw the towel where the other bottle of lubricant and condoms were, and went to blow out all the candles. Nope, they didn't need a fire flaring up in Danny's apartment. Flack's foot struck something on the floor, and he picked it up. Huh, it was the near-empty bottle of lube they used. He left it on the bedroom table and climbed back into bed.

"Yeah, well, maybe ya got some kinda _black hole _in there -" Flack sniggered at Danny's rough smack to his chest. "Where's the blanket?"

The CSI was already half-asleep, curled up on his side with his hands under his chin. "In the closet." He yawned. "Figured we'd be messin' 'round too much on the bed."

Flack grinned. He sure wasn't going to argue with that. He got off the bed again and went to the bedroom wardrobe to retrieve the dark blue blanket Danny favored. Flapped it open over Danny and the bed, then crawled under it, settling himself on one of the four pillows. The fifth one, which had been heartily used during their lovemaking, was now at the foot of the bed.

Danny immediately nestled himself on top of Flack, burrowing his face into Flack's neck and wrapping himself around the homicide detective like a boa snake. After five minutes of silence passed, he assumed Flack had fallen asleep. He sighed contentedly. His eyelids began fluttering close.

"In the mornin' … it's _your_ turn."

Danny's eyes opened wide. "Huh?"

The robust chest under him shook with quiet laughter. "Wha, ya think I'm gonna let ya have _all_ the fun, Messer?"

Danny nipped at Flack's neck, which only made the guy chuckle more. Danny couldn't stop the smile curving his lips either.

Another ten minutes of peaceful silence went by. Danny's eyelids gradually flickered shut. Then, Flack whispered again.

"Hey, Danny."

The CSI opened his cerulean eyes to slits. "Hmm?"

There was a little bit of cheekiness, some passion and a whole lot of fondness in Flack's low timbre.

"_I love you too_."

The happy smile on Danny's face remained until the dawn, and long after.

**Fin.**


End file.
